Who Can See The Wind?
by middle child03
Summary: Major General Jack O'Neill accompanies the President on a visit to Stargate Command and not everything goes as planned. Jack centered story with flashbacks and missing scenes from the TV series and emphasis on his friendship with George Hammond.
1. Chapter 1

Due to real life, a broken computer and circumstances I won't go into, this story is stalled at chapter 28. I'm still working on it but I won't post anymore chapters until I've written them all. Thanks for your interest and hopefully it won't be too long before we're both back here. :)

* * *

Title: "Who Can See The Wind?"

Author: Middle Child03

Category: Drama, angst, hurt/comfort, friendship (series story with missing scenes from lots of episodes)

Season: 10 - after The Shroud and before Bounty

Summary: Major Jack O'Neill, head of Homeworld Security, accompanies President Henry Hayes on a visit to Stargate Command. It won't be a boring day and it might even turn dangerous.

Pairings: None (no UST or established - no pairings at all)

Spoilers: Yes (expect anything and everything revealed from season one episode 1 all the way through the season ten episode Shroud and possibly references to the episode Bounty)

Rating: T (Because of the medical stuff and also just in case something comes up in future chapters but most of it is K+)

Warnings: A few swear words, lots of medical things and some violence. Also, this is not a feel-good team story.

Disclaimer: MGM, Gekko etc own everything Stargate. I own nothing. I just wanted to write a Jack based story for my friend C's birthday... years ago. Yep, been working on this for years.

Thanks to so many different people who have read this. Over time many Beta readers including Liz O, Angie, Jessi and Neoinean have contributed and I appreciate their efforts very much. Lately I haven't felt like sharing (lots of reasons – not sure you really want to know) so that means all errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone.

Note: This is a Jack O'Neill story and it's about his relationships, friendships, feelings and thoughts as I choose to write them. I read a lot of fan fiction, all kinds of fan fiction and try to keep an open mind about where the writer is going and why. If you read this story, I ask you to do the same. Please.

Any and all feedback would be great. This is a long story and I appreciate everyone who comes along for the ride. Here we go.

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Cheyenne Mountain Complex

Major General Hank Landry smiled as he hung up the phone in his office at Stargate Command. He thought his predecessor, Jack O'Neill would contact him so when the call first came through he was surprised when it wasn't Jack. Immediately he was concerned that his old friend wasn't coming but then he heard George Hammond's personal assurance that Jack was on the plane.

It was early morning in Colorado and still dark, but Landry didn't mind. He usually arrived ahead of most of the day shift staff, but today everyone who should be in was already there. The President was coming to celebrate the NORAD anniversary and along with the Secretary of Defense, would deliver the news concerning the future shutdown and command transfer. Following the celebration in the upper level, he was expected to put in a secret appearance at Stargate Command, commonly referred to as SGC by those knowing of its existence.

The base commander quickly reviewed the report from the duty officer and proceeded to review a final to-do list. The Secret Service advance team had been underfoot for a week and there were still a couple of things that he needed to check on before the base was locked down in preparation for the President's arrival, but Landry expected everything to happen on time. Landry checked off the final item on the paper and then sat back, his mind going back to his friend Jack O'Neill.

_It had been almost three weeks since Odyssey returned to Earth with Jack and SG-1 aboard. They had contacted Stargate Command before reaching orbit so by the time they arrived the ship's crew was ready and waiting to be beamed back aboard. At the same time SG-1 transported down into the gate room, O'Neill appeared as a hologram informing Landry that he needed Odyssey for a few minutes and then nonchalantly asked IOA liaison Richard Woolsey if he was coming along._

_The man stood with his mouth gaping before curtly nodding and then he was engulfed in the bright white light of the Asgard beam. O'Neill told Landry he would talk to him soon and cocked his head toward SG-1 saying "See ya kids," just before his image winked out. A few seconds later Chief Master Sergeant Harriman announced the Odyssey reporting Woolsey safely on board and that they were on their way to Washington DC. Landry learned later that after contacting the President, O'Neill beamed directly into the situation room of the White House while Woolsey remained on the ship for 30 minutes trying to bully the commander into transporting him down._

_It was a while later when Jack O'Neill phoned to tell Landry he was still his boss. The call was relatively short and Hank could tell his friend was rushed so he didn't push for small talk. Not that Jack would have participated in much of it anyway. In the end he accepted the order to get Intel on the state of the Ori and grimaced a little with the announcement that the President was coming to Colorado for the NORAD anniversary and intended to visit Stargate Command as well. _

Aboard Air Force One somewhere over the Midwest

George Hammond moved easily into the spacious seat next to his friend General Jack O'Neill and absently smoothed his pants. He cautiously looked around making sure he wasn't overheard before quietly stating, "I made the call."

At least they didn't have to worry about being overheard by the great flock of reporters that always accompanied the President, a mercy for which Jack was exceedingly relieved. Except for one brief encounter in the restroom right before they boarded, Jack had managed to avoid the few press allowed on this short trip.

He was grateful that the reporters boarded the big plane through the rear door climbing the stairs and went immediately to the press section while he and Hammond boarded with the President using the rolling stairs to the middle deck. The reporters were confined to their own section well away from the White House Staffers and others. When the reporters asked the Press Secretary about the VIPs on the plane, they were told, "they're Air Force officers, we're going to an Air Force installation."

Jack looked over and Hammond smiled, adding, "Hank is expecting you."

Returning the smile he told Hammond, "Mike said I wouldn't be missed," while his right hand absently brushed over the uniform fabric on his thigh. He added, "The NORAD folks aren't expecting me to attend." Hearing Hank's name reminded Jack that they hadn't spoken since the day he returned to Washington DC. Three weeks or so and only a couple of emails had been exchanged, but then they hadn't needed to talk.

_Jack remembered the gate room and the look on Richard Woolsey's face when the man realized he wasn't returning with the team. He'd asked the IOA rep to accompany him to DC while he faced the music and the man reluctantly agreed.. He knew Woolsey would try to detain him. Even though he didn't have the authority, Jack knew he would try to have him arrested and shipped back to DC in shackles. The IOA members were angry and afraid, wanting to blame someone, and O'Neill was the best person. He had defied them and let the Ori invaders, an army of followers probably with priors into the galaxy. _

_Leaving Hank and SG-1 behind, Jack briefly faced the IOA liaison before retreating to quarters to change into his uniform. He was fine in BDUs, hadn't even gotten dirty, but knew he should present his best when facing the President, SecDef, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the Air Force Chief of Staff. So in the communique to Landry, O'Neill requested his possessions from his VIP quarters be brought aboard with the crew._

_Woolsey yelled at him, insisting he could have him arrested and shot. O'Neill watched impassively while the man continued his tirade, in front of some of the Odyssey crew no less. As soon as the angry man took a gulping breath O'Neill jumped in with, "I don't have time for this. The President is expecting me." Leaving the man to the incredulous stares of the crew members, he walked away carrying his garment bag._

_Woolsey wasn't anywhere near O'Neill when he transported down, which was good since he might have tried to leap into the beam with him. The bright light dissipated and Jack recognized the long meeting table and many phones and tactical displays of the White House situation room. Looking at his watch he realized he might be about four minutes early so he reached to pull out a chair to sit down just as the door opened._

_In another second the President breezed in with several others behind him and Jack stood rigidly at attention. He watched as everyone came through the door and was thankful none of the IOA members had been invited. That was his preference and the reason he'd left Woolsey on the ship but there had always been the chance another member would weasel their way into this meeting._

"_Jack, good to see you. Take a seat," President Hayes told him, sliding out a chair for himself._

"_Thank you, Sir," he politely half mumbled . He waited for the President to sit before taking his own seat, not immediately noticing it put him two chairs down from the end of the long table with everyone else on the opposite side except the President who sat at the head. Telling himself to keep cool, it only looks like an inquisition, Jack waited for someone to speak. It was many seconds of scrutiny later when Air Force Chief of Staff General Michael Mantley* broke the ice and O'Neill was guessing that it had been planned that way in advance._

"_Tell __**me**__ what you think we should do with you, General O'Neill."_

TBC

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* Not supposed to use the name of 'real' Air Force Chief of Staff in the time line for this story, because he's a real person and this is fiction


	2. Chapter 2

_General Michael Mantley: "Tell __**me**__ what you think we should do with you, General O'Neill."_

_**Chapter 2**_

_The others at the table vaguely nodded their heads in agreement with the inquiry and O'Neill knew his words would have to carry the weight of his rank and the Office of Home World Security. His future in the Air Force might even be in jeopardy if he didn't get it right. So he looked straight into the man's eyes and stated quietly, but firmly, "I serve at the pleasure of the President."_

_He'd thrown himself on his sword and the silence was palpable. Not a sound, he couldn't even tell if he was breathing let alone the others in the room as he gazed unblinkingly at Mantley. He knew eventually they'd make him explain, make him defend what he did and then they'd decide what to do about him. It could be anything from a verbal reprimand to early retirement or it could be as bad as formal charges and a court martial. He tried to calculate the temperature of the room, but he wasn't having much luck doing that and keeping his eyes on Mantley. They let him suffer for almost a full minute before the silence was broken confirming what Jack already suspected about their strategy._

"_Good answer Jack," President Hayes quipped, his smile and twinkling eyes immediately relaxing everyone in the room. "We've heard from Mr Woolsey, but don't worry about that. I assume he's still in one piece on board the Odyssey?" Surely they didn't think Jack would hurt him, though he had thought about it when the man wanted to have Daniel Jackson summarily executed._

"_Yes Sir, he's fine," Jack softly replied, once again gathering and organizing his thoughts._

_There was a discreet knock at the door and soon a mug of strong hot coffee appeared in front of him. Hayes, Mantley, the SecDef, the Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Commandant of the Marine Corps all had mugs too when the door closed and the President encouraged Jack to begin. "Tell us what happened and what you were thinking."_

_It didn't take long without interruptions, but Jack knew they would have questions. He finished by emphatically stating that they just needed Intel to confirm the Ori were gone, maybe send a team to the Ori galaxy and they needed to find the key to defeating the Priors. Without them the army had no teeth. They let him sweat, wondering what was next. O'Neill wasn't intimidated but made sure to keep his demeanor somewhat relaxed yet still portraying confidence. He knew he'd done the right thing, 'Dick' Woolsey and the IOA be damned._

_With a pointed look from Hayes, the CJCS asked the first question with the others quickly joining in and the discussion got a bit lively. O'Neill responded to every question and joined the discussion about every aspect until the SecDef brought up his defying the IOA orders. Jack kept his cool, but couldn't hold his tongue any longer and he lashed out about the international oversight committee._

_He was respectful when he didn't swear but firm when he called them "a bunch of civilians with no real clue about what's out there with the exception of their experience with R75 at the Gamma site. And reading written reports. He told them that they have only a vague idea about what the SG teams face every time they walk through the gate." Then he took a breath and got back on track._

"_The IOA wasn't there, Sirs. I listened to my gut and followed my instincts."_

_He paused long enough to see that the men were still listening and projecting positive vibes. These were military men who understood combat, had served in combat or under combat conditions and understood how intuition and gut feelings were every bit as important and reliable as training and experience. He knew Mantley had over 2500 hours in T-37s, T-38s and F-15s so Jack knew for sure he understood gut feelings._

"_We and every one else in the galaxy have been getting out butts kicked and I believe we had to take the chance, Sirs. I take full responsibility for what I did," he proclaimed and then added, "And I believe we delivered a fatal blow to the Ori when Merlin's weapon went through the gate, and Sirs, even though we now have more ships to deal with, I would do it again in a heartbeat."_

"_You really believe they've been destroyed." the SecDef sounded doubtful._

"_Yes, Sir, I do. I don't know for certain that Adria, the Ori.... Orici," and he smirked slightly as he continued, "was destroyed but I'm confident the Ori themselves are gone. Dr Jackson and Colonel Carter are not often wrong and based on the way SG-1 has researched, investigated and explored to get us this far, I don't believe they're wrong this time."_

_Jack noticed the men thoughtfully regarding him and decided to wait for their next question. Nobody spoke for many seconds and then there was another discreet knock on the door. He was facing away so didn't see who was there until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and knew it was his former CO._

"_Hello George, glad you could get here," President Hayes welcomed him with a handshake._

"_Thank you Mr President, I'm sorry it took me so long. I was delayed on Dupont Circle."_

_Everyone except O'Neill laughed at his declaration knowing the real reason was because he had been a lot farther away from the White House when he got the call. Hammond gently squeezed O'Neill's shoulder before removing his hand and taking the seat next to him._

"_Do you want a recap before we go on, George," the SecDef inquired._

_Hammond smiled. "No Sir, I'm confident I could guess what you all have been saying and asking."_

_Again they chuckled and then George Hammond posed the question that hadn't been asked yet._

"_Jack, have you explained why you didn't contact the IOA and ask permission?"_

_Jack knew why he hadn't and he knew Hammond knew and he suspected the others knew also though they hadn't asked him yet. Jack spent part of his career begging for forgiveness rather than asking for permission and Hammond had given him absolution more than once when they'd both been at Stargate Command. He looked across the table, then turned to look at the President and finally directed his eyes to his former commanding officer. The man was smirking, Jack saw it, but then it was gone._

"_I know I made the right decision. I knew it then, I'm certain of it now, but you're right, there's a big reason why I didn't contact the IOA." He paused but not for effect. Instead he was searching for a way to keep Daniel's name out of it but he already knew there wasn't one._

"_I knew that because of the way Da... Dr Jackson beamed off the crew, scared Woolsey and took Odyssey that there was no way in hell the IOA would give the okay to do what I did. They believed he was an Ori Prior. They wouldn't have listened to any reasoning contradicting that assumption. I wouldn't be surprised if they still think his transformation is some kind of a trick and they certainly don't believe we really had Merlin's weapon, in fact they don't believe we had a weapon at all."_

_Jack was passionate and he didn't know it at the time but they agreed with his assessment. In fact, if they were honest about it they would admit that they too would have struggled with giving permission for something so risky and kind of far fetched. Not surprisingly they'd all made risky decisions on the fly in their earlier careers but never one that impacted the entire planet and in this case the entire galaxy. And secretly they were glad someone else was willing to make the tough call, ignore the chain of command and give the unpopular order._

_Jack was completely sincere when he admitted, "It was faith, Sirs." The five men stared at him, but didn't speak so he continued. "I listened to SG-1's logic, I evaluated their reasoning, I formed my own opinion and I calculated and weighed all the benefits and risks. I've seen so many amazing improbable things that in the end I did what I do best, I trusted my gut."_

_Things moved fast after that. Jack was given a slap on the wrist for not asking the IOA. The logic was to let the civilians say no and go ahead anyway and that way there's a paper trail to use against them when their decisions are proven to be wrong. And they promised to try to get the IOA to acknowledge that most times Jack and others with the most experience are going to make the tough calls without consulting them first. And hopefully they will be right most of the time._

_O'Neill wasn't fired, he wasn't even formally reprimanded and they promised to try to give him more support. But they insisted that he and Landry spearhead the push to find out if the Ori are truly gone and also find a way to defeat the Priors. The invasion force had to be stopped. If the Ori were gone their Priors and followers certainly didn't know it and the galaxy was still in jeopardy._

_The meeting adjourned with Jack not having to face Woolsey or any other IOA member and President Hayes wanting to visit Stargate Command while he was in Colorado for the NORAD anniversary. Hammond waited while he called Hank and then the two men left the situation room and the White House together._

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Gazing at Hammond now on Air Force One, Jack was reminded of that day in the situation room and then when they went to dinner that evening. Fuddruckers was a favorite place and that's where they ended up after going home and changing. The restaurant had good food at reasonable prices and a relatively noisy atmosphere because of families with children so they wouldn't be overheard.

Not that they talked about what happened, they couldn't, not in an unsecured location and certainly not in public, but they didn't need to either. Instead they watched the children and talked fishing, Hammond's granddaughters, his imminent retirement and in vague terms SG-1. They also talked about Jack signing out of the White House without ever signing in, though someone had logged his arrival at the desk. It wasn't the first time it had happened and thank goodness the White House folks involved were keeping their mouths shut. The President made it very clear that he was not ready to even discuss disclosure.

Their relationship had grown and evolved over the years and while they could always talk to each other, the last three years had contributed the most to their friendship. Many events were responsible for it happening, but none more than Jack almost dying only to be saved by the Tok'ra and ultimately killed by Ba'al, his arrest for killing Senator Kinsey who went on to spill Stargate secrets to China, France and Great Britain, Loki creating his clone, Janet Fraiser being KIA and a second ancient download. And that was all before Hammond left Stargate Command.

Working closely together for over nine years linked their lives forever and because of the Stargate it was in a very special and unique way. Jack acknowledged that George Hammond knew him extremely well and in some ways better than anyone else – including his former team and he in turn could read Hammond. Their moods were often easily discerned by the other with their mutual respect, opinions, approval and disapproval conveyed in a single look or word.

They'd been friendly since their initial meetings, but it grew by leaps and bounds as the missions stacked up and the crises were averted. Jack remembered struggling with General Hammond's rigid command style, but at the same time acknowledging it was just his way and grudgingly admitted that it worked. The staff respected the man and it grew to into a general fondness mixed with admiration. As for Jack and the General, in the last few years their mutual respect and camaraderie had blossomed, forging a lifelong link that not many men could admit to having and it kept getting stronger.

Jack and Hammond started spending more time together outside the mountain where they could talk without a closed door. Both their homes were checked regularly for surveillance so they had privacy, though they never discussed anything classified or remotely close to it. Instead it was two men, both senior Air Force officers, shouldering the weight of their commands and sometimes needing to talk about it. And sometimes needing to not talk about it. Jack remembered a time when Hammond showed up unannounced and they spent almost the whole day and evening watching rented war movies.

They ate good food, drank cold beer and talked for hours about "Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo," "Tora, Tora, Tora," "Sergeant York," "Bombardier," "Wake Island," "Run Silent, Run Deep," "The Fighting Sullivans," "Flying Tigers," and "Flying Leathernecks" while watching "Twelve O'Clock High," "Battle of Midway" and "The Longest Day," without any of the current moralistic or political issues mucking up things.

Hammond interrupted O'Neill's reverie. "I wish I could get out of the NORAD thing,"

He turned to see the General shifting in his chair with a frown on his face and looking as though the very thought of visiting NORAD made him physically uncomfortable. But he recognized something else. Hammond looked drained.

"Yeah, I didn't want to say anything but you look a little tired. You not sleep well last night?"

Hammond shook his head slowly and sighed. "No. I haven't slept well for a couple of nights. I think it must be nerves." He swallowed hard and stared into space. Jack waited.

A few seconds later the retired General admitted, "I've thought a lot about this for a long time, but now that it's here..." and then he paused again, rubbing his left hand gently over his smooth forehead.

Jack knew immediately what Hammond was referring to: his often rumored, long awaited, longer overdue retirement. They'd all thought – Hammond included – that he would finish out his final tour at Stargate Command. He hadn't been asked to retire and he never volunteered, he just kept doing the job that the President and Joint Chiefs kept asking him to do. Until finally the unthinkable happened.

O'Neill had accepted his second Ancient download and at what could have arguably been the worst possible time, (though it had stiff competition with seven years of infamous near-misses) Hammond was relieved of his SGC command and ordered to Washington, DC to discuss reassignment with the President.

Sitting next to Hammond now only solidified Jack's belief that they would always be close friends and his mind rewound to a time two years earlier when he was truly thankful for that growing friendship.

_Following Jack's second Ancient download, most SGC personnel pretty much avoided him, especially after SG-1 found what they presumed to be the gate address to the Lost City. Then Teal'c and Bra'tac made contact through the gate to announce they had located a ship. The President was notified, and Hammond lobbied hard for SG-1 to be given the chance to find whatever they could to help defeat Anubis and save the world again – even though everyone hoped it wouldn't actually need saving. _

_Vice President Kinsey had been against SG-1 and especially Jack O'Neill going anywhere, but President Hayes trusted George Hammond and was learning to trust the Joint Chiefs and if Anubis was on his way then Earth needed all the help it could get. That and it was no secret that Jack would most likely be dead very soon, and he knew Hammond would see the imminent loss of all that Ancient knowledge and the man as being an unthinkable blow to both tactical and scientific endeavors._

_For himself, Jack had simply been grateful that the team would get a chance to try and pull off another miracle, and because of that he'd found himself strangely okay with the prospect of his own impending demise. A long and distinguished career had left him intimately familiar with the concept of his own mortality, and while his years at the SGC might have rewritten that concept several times over, the likelihood that he'd die permanently in the line of duty was something Jack had made peace with long before he ever set foot through a Stargate. _

_As such, he hadn't exactly been expecting a call from his former CO, but in hindsight, perhaps he should have. They hadn't spoken since Hammond headed for Washington and a meeting with the President after being relieved of his SG command. That last conversation with Hammond before SG-1's fateful departure would stay with Jack forever..._

_He was touring the corridors of the SGC with no particular aim, his own personal adaptation of the old Naval tradition of a captain taking one final tour of his ship before committing to what looked to be a hopeless battle, when CMSGT Walter Harriman tracked him down on sub level 22 and herded him off to Dr Elizabeth Weir's office just in time for the phone to ring._

_She motioned for him to answer it and he hesitantly lifted the handset, but he didn't even have time to say hello before he heard Hammond's familiar greeting, "Hello, Jack." The use of his first name said it all, and O'Neill smiled as he settled into a chair in front of the desk as Dr Weir quickly left the room, closing the door to the hallway softly behind her._

"_Hello General, how are you? How's DC?" _

"_DC is fine and I am too. The talks with the Joint Chiefs have been tolerable and though he's turned down my request for retirement, the President has made a few concessions. Even the international oversight doesn't sound so bleak so I think it might be all right for a little while."_

"_That's good to hear, Sir."_

"_I guess you know the mission is approved. It didn't take him long once Teal'c and Master Bra'tac procured the ship. Did you get everything taken care of as you hoped?" _

_If Jack hadn't been sure why Hammond had called him, that one simple straightforward question covered all of it. Specifically - Did he see or call his ex-wife, young clone, and Cassandra Fraiser? Were his important papers in their usual place? Did he secure his on-base personal items and had he updated his letters in case he was KIA or MIA? Had he cleaned out his refrigerator? _

_Of course he should have known. His former CO always had his six, even from across the galaxy. What were a couple of time zones compared to that? That thought comforted him in ways he would never acknowledge, but he had a sinking suspicion that some of them shown through in his voice anyway. _

"_Yes Sir, everything is done." He didn't need to provide details, Hammond already knew about the three very special, people in Jack's life. "There is just one thing I need you to do."_

"_Anything Jack, you know I'll do anything," Hammond confirmed, totally sincere._

"_I don't know how much longer I'll be speaking or understanding, Sir. Carter will take command if she has to, but you and I both know that her loyalty might keep her from taking it soon enough." Carter's loyalty was admired and appreciated by both men but the command structure for this mission needed to be firmed up. _

_"General, I'm fine with you giving Carter command of SG-1 right now. I have a feeling it won't be long before she'll need to assume it anyway," he admitted. "She's ready, Sir." _

_Jack wanted the General to give Carter an out so that she wouldn't have to toe the fine line between her duty to the SGC and her commitment to her CO. Unfortunately, the very nature of the problem meant that Carter would probably never accept that coming from him. Hammond would have to give the order and Jack had absolute faith that he would._

_His former CO's response was firm. "Colonel, you are leading SG-1 and are in command of the mission until you feel you shouldn't continue. I'm prepared to order Major Carter to assume command if and when you are no longer able, but I have every confidence in you."_

_Hammond having his six was comforting as always but Jack knew he wasn't finished. This might be the last time they talked. Neither man had any idea what would happen in the coming days with Jack's brain overloading and Anubis on his way. So it wasn't any surprise the way he 'encouraged' Jack to retain command for what could be his final mission._

"_You are SG-1, Colonel. Granted the others make contributions, significant contributions, but it's your leadership that has made it all work for almost eight years."_

_Jack flinched. He never saw himself as making a significant contribution to the team and certainly not in the same league as Carter, Daniel and Teal'c. Yeah he'd been team leader and had a decent amount of field experience, but that was it. His job was to get them out there, try to keep them on track for the mission and get them back in as close to original condition as possible. That was his job. Take care of his team and complete the mission. Anything else he managed to contribute was just dumb luck._

"_It's you now that has the information to see the rest of us through this," Hammond continued._

_There were some things he wouldn't accept from anyone but Hammond. The man had a way of expressing concern and confidence all at the same time. _

"_I just hope we find what we need, Sir." Jack tried to sound confident._

_Dying wasn't bad compared to Anubis attacking the planet and killing or enslaving everyone. For that reason Jack had no regret about taking the ancient download. He knew from the first time what would probably happen and all was confirmed when Thor seemed unreachable. It made Jack wonder if any little Asgard was out there or if the replicators had won the war. It didn't matter that Thor might not be around to save him, sticking his head in the Ancient device was his job, no matter the consequences._

"_You said yourself the answer's in your head somewhere. I have faith we're all going to be okay."_

_There was a lengthy pause, but before O'Neill could wonder whether the General was finished, Hammond continued and though his voice was steady, it was still a notch deeper and a few shades huskier than it had been. "All of us, Jack." There was his first name again._

"_Yes Sir," O'Neill almost whispered, because he almost couldn't speak at all. After spending a few seconds regaining his composure he added, "Just in case, General..." _

_Hammond stepped ahead of his thoughts. "God speed, Jack. And just in case, it's been an honor." He was careful not to say 'it was an honor.' That way it didn't sound quite so morbidly final. _

_The man knew what he was thinking, it happened a lot. O'Neill smiled at seven years of memories and then softly replied, "The honor... and pleasure is all mine, Sir." _

_And just like that, the spell was broken. Neither man got overly sentimental, but after serving together for so long it was hard not to care about the other. You keep it professional and try to tell yourself that everyone you serve with means the same to you, but you know it isn't true. The two men acknowledged silently that the other was one of the best they had ever served with and they held out hope, no matter how slim that everything would turn out okay. After all, Jack O'Neill was Mr. Positive._

"_I'll give Major Carter a call and draft the order. Now I want you to relax a little, maybe take a nap."_

_Hammond was right in thinking Jack hadn't slept much in the last few days. He wouldn't order the younger man to bed but he wasn't against making a good suggestion and to the General a nap was a very good idea. "Dr Weir tells me everything is packed and ready."_

_Hammond strategically steered the subject and Jack gladly followed the General's lead. "Yes Sir, we're ready to go." And hitting the rack for a few was a great idea so he playfully added, "As for a nap... yeah, it does sound pretty good, but I think I'll go get a piece of pie first. We'll have some fresh rations, but with Teal'c's appetite we could be eating MREs pretty quickly."_

_Hammond laughed, "Sounds good, Jack. I'll see you and your team when you get back."_

That was the last time he talked to General Hammond until the day after he'd been brought back – really brought back. His first full day was spent in the SGC infirmary and it wasn't until late the next morning that he was able to get through to his friend and former CO and really talk. Then as now the conversation wound around and stumbled over the word retirement.

TBC

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Resubmitted chapters 1, 2 and 3. I'm very sorry if this caused a problem or gave a headache to anyone. I needed to change a name and remove some remarks. I'm learning... slowly. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to Eternal Density for letting me know I called the ship BC-304 instead of DSC-304. I'd like those kinds of things to be accurate in my writing so I appreciate very much being told when I get it wrong. :) It's been fixed in the story.

* * *

Previously in chapter 3 - Then as now the conversation wound around and stumbled over the word retirement.

**Chapter 4**

Except at that time there was no retirement. Instead Hammond served at the pleasure of the President playing a vital role in defeating Anubis, getting his third star and agreeing to head the newly created department of Homeworld Security. And there was a lot going on that needed overseeing: SGC, Area 51, BC-303 and DSC-304 programs, the Antarctica outpost and everything else related to the defense of the planet. Even when he retired from active duty and O'Neill took over Homeworld Security, Hammond continued to serve the President and Joint Chiefs in a civilian capacity. Now he was retiring, for good this time and Jack knew just how much he would miss him.

The bald man shook his head slowly and sighed. "I've wanted to retire for a long time, but now that it's here," he paused, rubbing his left hand gently over the top of his head. "The last three years have been three of the best Jack."

"For me too, Sir," O'Neill responded without sounding too sentimental. Neither man subscribed to the notion that sentimentality is for suckers. They'd both suffered immeasurable losses in their lives and were kindred spirits in grief, pain and heartache.

Jack understood that part of retiring was the chance to finally share it with the one person who stuck with you throughout your career – your spouse. The military is hard on relationships, especially marriages and Hammond didn't have his anymore. Hammond's life partner died of cancer years before and Jack knew his friend wished she could be around for his retirement... it should have been their retirement. Jack was thinking too much and knew Hammond was too so he tried to lighten the mood.

"I know it's not retirement bothering you so it must be all the parties," Jack knowingly quipped, having attended a couple of the get-togethers in the last week. The one at the White House two nights previously was all senior officers, both active and retired.

He knew Hammond had connections so he wasn't entirely surprised when a few Admirals showed up along with many Generals from the other service branches. Several of his friends and acquaintances from the CIA*, NSA**, State Department and DOJ*** were also there and everyone enjoyed listening to their tales of Hammond's adventures and exploits. Everything was sanitized, but still humorous and the best news for both Jack and George was the complete absence of anyone representing the NID or IOA.

"I'm very glad the Washington ones are out of the way. I have lots of good memories, but…." Hammond paused, thinking about the person who shared his many years of service, the one who wasn't here now. The widower still wore his wedding ring and Jack knew he'd probably never take it off. To think about dating someone, let alone marrying them meant taking off the ring.

He watched as his friend unconsciously rubbed the plain gold band with his thumb, obviously thinking about his late wife and the shared retirement denied. She couldn't be here, but it was still a happy occasion and Jack needed to change the focus.

Already knowing the answer he asked, "Kayla and Tessa excited about you coming home?"

Hammond grinned, and Jack liked the way the man's eyes twinkled with joy and pride when anyone mentioned his granddaughters.

"Oh yes, the few trips back to Colorado and their week in DC this last year have not been enough for those two. Even with the web cam my being away has been hard for them," he reminisced. "It's been hard for me too."

Jack thought back to the occasions at Hammond's home and the get-togethers at his own house when the girls came with his favorite CO. He'd only seen them a few times in the last year, his schedule and theirs making it difficult to connect in person. The two young ladies never forgot their Uncle Jack and never failed to make him feel special when they did get together.

"They're great girls, Sir. I'm going to miss them," he admitted truthfully. He never minded their tight hugs or even the sloppy kisses when the girls were younger. Their giggling was infectious and on more than one occasion his stomach had hurt from laughing with them.

Hammond looked at his friend and smiling said, "I'll make sure their web cam is working, Jack."

Jack's slight smirk said as much as his words. "I wouldn't know anything about those things, Sir."

"Of course you wouldn't," Hammond jokingly chuckled. He knew that Jack knew that he knew that Jack knew much more about computers and web cams and everything else than he ever admitted. It was fine. They both knew. They both kept quiet about it.

They felt the plane descend and after hearing the announcement proclaiming their imminent landing, many found the way to the facilities one last time. As everyone buckled their seat belts, the Air Force One staff disappeared from view to sit in their designated places and all around O'Neill and Hammond secret service agents and others found seats.

The wide body jet descended some more as both men felt the landing gears and knew they'd soon be on the ground. The flight so far was uneventful and they both hoped that would include landing. Just because it was the President's plane didn't rule out some problem, mechanical or otherwise. It just made it unlikely.

"I'm glad Hank likes barbecuing as much as we do," O'Neill offered, keeping the conversation light.

One of the get-togethers was to be at General Hank Landry's home, or rather in his back yard and would be a sharp contrast to the DC parties where it had been mess dress with mingling, appetizers and drinks followed by a formal dinner.

Smiling, both men momentarily thought about grilled marinated steaks, juicy ribs and cold beer sipped from the bottle while relaxing at an outdoor table under clear blue sky. And they didn't forget about the fresh air. The air in Washington DC isn't horrible, it certainly could be worse, but it's not Colorado mountain air, the kind of magical air found at just above 6000 feet. And the sky doesn't get any bluer either. Their next memories were the same yet just a little different.

Hammond's thoughts centered on meadow grass and leaping grasshoppers as he and the girls picnicked in the shadow of the majestic Rocky Mountains enjoying the clean smell of pine trees early in the afternoon. The girls were getting older, but they still loved trekking the familiar paths they had both enjoyed since they first learned to walk. O'Neill closed his eyes for only a second, his thoughts drifting from ice covered mountain lakes and snowy ski slopes to steep hiking trails and backwood roads before finally settling on the clear night sky and the hours spent star gazing.

Then the wheels touched the runway interrupting their daydreaming. Their thoughts were slammed back to reality of the here and now, but their souls glowed in the memories and the anticipation. Being back in Colorado will do that to a person. It cleanses then replenishes your soul. The plane decelerated quickly with the noise inside the cabin increasing just slightly and it was less than a minute before they left the runway and were taxiing to the designated spot on the tarmac.

A Navy Lieutenant Commander pushed open a window shade before he was verbally chastised by a secret service agent who quickly closed it again while the man looked suitably scolded. He knew better and Hammond and O'Neill could only hope he took the task of holding onto the nuclear football a little more seriously. They guessed not as he tried to peer through a crack left by the closed shade.

A throng of vehicles left a nearby hanger as some of the passengers rose from their seats preparing to disembark. O'Neill and Hammond unfastened their seat belts, but made no move to get up. There was plenty of time since the rolling stairs hadn't even arrived yet. They turned in their seats slightly and ignoring the others continued their quiet talk.

"Tell me if you know anything," Hammond implored his friend, looking at him seriously. "I'm expecting the SGC roast, Walter spilled the beans."

"Yes sir," he confirmed, gazing compassionately at his tired friend. He hoped nobody roasted him when the time came. "Other than the cookout at Hank's, I honestly don't know of anything else that's been planned." It was the truth.

Knowing for certain that his friend wasn't disappointed there weren't more retirement festivities planned, he lightly quipped, "If you want I can arrange a couple more fancy dinners."

Hammond laughed aloud, giving O'Neill a mock stern look. "Thanks, but no thanks. Hank's cookout is tomorrow?" he asked, reminding himself that he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, he said early in the early afternoon and the weather is supposed to be really nice. He's got something the next two days after and then I have to be getting back."

Hammond winced internally before revealing, "You know Jack, the President has the idea that you'll return to Washington with him." He noticed his friend tense up, but didn't respond so he continued.

"The IOA will try to get even more involved, attempting to force their opinions into every Homeworld decision, not just the big ones. Jack, they're pushing for unilateral control, total decision making power over SGC and Atlantis. No limits, no restrictions."

O'Neill's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed as he glanced at his former CO. The President and Joint Chiefs tried very hard to get some ground rules put into writing, but up until now it seemed that the international group of meddling know-it-all civilians just wanted to be in charge of everything. Ordering Daniel killed was just the latest in their struggle for power.

"What did it cost the President to keep me?" Jack knew there had to have been fallout from his decision to shut down the super gate that allowed the Ori ships to come through.

Hammond shrugged saying, "I'm not sure, but don't worry about it. I understand the President and Joint Chiefs had Woolsey and two others from the IOA in the oval office for an hour."

Jack's eyes met Hammond's in unspoken agreement. He knew the score, knew what was at stake. The President promised more support and Jack promised he would try to pick his battles, accepting the reality that he couldn't win them all. President Hayes, Mike Mantley and the other Joint Chiefs had gone to bat for him and he wouldn't let them down. He knew the following weeks would be busy and stressful so he had purposely taken leave now. Unfortunately, it looked like it wasn't going to work out and his former CO's next words confirmed it.

"I asked him," he started, then back stepped, "I told him that you needed an extra couple of days, reminding him that you haven't had any leave in months. He understands, but…." Hammond paused, hoping Jack knew he hadn't broken any confidences.

"He's willing to pick you up on the way back from California late tomorrow night so you can still be with me at Hank's... unless you want to skip it. I understand if you do." Hammond was saying everything without saying anything. He was giving O'Neill an opportunity to do whatever he had in mind before President Hayes got back.

Jack shook his head indicating he wasn't skipping the barbecue so Hammond continued. "Additional time off will have to come later." Hammond recognized the closed look on O'Neill's face, the one hiding his true feelings behind the piercing eyes and stiff jaw.

"It won't be long, Jack," Hammond confidently stated as he stood up. Jack was standing too when Hammond added, "He's only concerned because of recent events."

They both knew what recent events the President was concerned about. Daniel's Prior transformation and rebellious ways even though Odyssey got an advanced cloak, O'Neill's foray on Odyssey, Carter disappearing from an SGC lab only to reappear two weeks later with one hell of a disturbing parallel universe story, the escalating war with the Lucien Alliance, the destruction of Dakara and the splintered Jaffa council were just a few.

Before O'Neill could respond, a faceless voice called out, "General O'Neill," interrupting the thoughts of both men. He turned and was slightly startled as the man in front of him was a little too close, rudely invading his personal space. Needing more personal space than the special agent apparently required, Jack moved back slightly waiting for the man to step back too, which he did.

"There's been a change, Sir. You're in #3," the man dryly announced with a neutral expression and very minty breath.

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the instruction and was about ready to come back with one of his 'if only I could patent this' remarks when he stopped, mouth left partly open. What would be the point? Probably be wasted on this minty mouthed guy who reminded him of Mollem or Boring... no, Borren, that was it, of the Aschen Confederation. General Hammond passed him the hanger with his uniform jacket and Jack took it.

Knowing his comment wouldn't benefit anybody, O'Neill nodded once in acceptance and the agent withdrew. Wondering and then silently hoping that the Aschen had their own problems with the Ori, he turned to his friend and replied, "Thanks George," and passed back the empty wooden hanger.

It wasn't often O'Neill called his favorite general by his first name even though the man kept reminding him to do just that. Even retired Hammond would always be General or Sir to O'Neill and others who had served in his command. It was actually easier to call General Mantley Mike than to address Hammond as George. Too many years and too much respect O'Neill guessed. The same was true for Hammond and the President. Hayes told George to call him Henry, but only Sir or Mr President came out of his mouth. It was the same thing.

Both generals slid into their jackets, adjusting the shoulders and sleeves before fastening the buttons and Hammond nervously smoothed his tie. They were only vaguely aware of being observed by the staff as Jack retrieved his cover, briefcase and Hammond's portfolio.

"So, I'm guessing my ride broke down," O'Neill jokingly quipped, passing over the item.

His eyes shining with amusement, Hammond replied, "That or someone miscounted."

"How do you miscount Air Force sedans?" Deciding it didn't really matter about the car, O'Neill slung back with a grin, "I care only about legroom," and adjusted his stance and posture to reveal his true height so anyone looking would notice his long legs.

Hammond replied with a small smile of his own and then knowing they had little time left, he returned to their conversation before being interrupted. "About the extra days… give it a month or six weeks at the most and you can have four or five days in a row. " He glanced around cautiously before softly adding, "The Joint Chiefs said they'd even loan you a Gulfstream or use of the Odyssey transporter when the time is right."

O'Neill looked surprised before solemnly nodding, understanding that he was walking on eggs with the IOA after going against their so-called orders and not wanting to let down the President, the Joint Chiefs and Hammond, who seemed to have absolute confidence in him.

TBC

*CIA – Central Intelligence Agency

**NSA – National Security Agency

***DOJ – Department of Justice


	5. Chapter 5

I'm supposed to be on vacation, but plans changed due to unforeseeable circumstances, etc. Because I'm still able to get on line, I decided to post another chapter before the holiday weekend. In this chapter Daniel Jackson is petulant. Daniel fans, I'm sorry if you're offended by the way I've portrayed him. All I can say is that it's just a story.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Cheyenne Mountain

Teal'c and Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell sat in the SGC mess hall discussing the VIP visit. The men didn't care for the political side of their job and thankfully someone else usually handled it. They also didn't like these political visits and would rather be off-world, almost anywhere off-world.

"I am uncertain why your President wishes to meet with me," Teal'c addressed Mitchell.

His eyes gazed at Mitchell's face, watching as a lip turned up on one side of the man's mouth. Not a smile or a sneer, just the way it looked when he was thinking and then Teal'c watched him chew his lip gently, perhaps trying to decide just what to say and how to say it.

"Ya know Teal'c, he's kinda your President too," he quipped before taking another bite of cereal.

Teal'c was thinking about the list of names he'd seen in Colonel Carter's lab. It was the VIP list of personnel attending the NORAD anniversary celebration and he wondered why O'Neill's name wasn't on it. They hadn't seen him since he returned to Washington to face the President after going against IOA orders. Teal'c knew that Daniel Jackson was still harboring some ill feelings toward O'Neill because of the freezing thing and chose to call him at all hours of the night and very early morning.

O'Neill needed to sleep and the archaeologist didn't, at least not until much later in the evening or earlier in the morning. The younger man didn't like it when O'Neill reminded him that it was midnight or 2AM and didn't appreciate being woken from a sound sleep for a chat... about nothing. Teal'c understood that O'Neill wasn't young anymore. Most military men of O'Neill's age retired from service long ago but a few, like O'Neill and Hammond stayed.

They didn't fight in physical battles any longer. Their bodies injured more easily, healed slower and the time from recovery to full fitness was much longer. Now that Teal'c was on tretonin, having lost his symbiote, he had a greater understanding of combined and long term affects of injuries and admired O'Neill even more. Teal'c was thinking about his symbiote, which made him think about the nickname O'Neill had christened the baby snake with, which made him miss his friend. Then Mitchell's voice startled him.

"Teal'c, you in there?" Mitchell asked again around a gulp of juice.

"My apologies, my mind escaped me for a moment," he stated, turning his head to look right at Mitchell as if to encourage him to restate what he had said.

"I was saying that I don't know why the President is interested in you, Teal'c," repeated Mitchell. "Even more surprising is why he's interested in Vala." His smirk turned into a broad smile when the Jaffa's eyebrow rose higher than ever as he considered Mitchell's words.

The two men ate in silence for a couple of minutes until Doctor Daniel Jackson marched purposefully up to the table carrying a tray with a plate of food, a glass of juice and a large mug of coffee.

"Hey guys, I just heard that Air Force One has landed," he quipped, setting down his tray before plopping into the chair next to Mitchell. His chair legs scraped the floor as he pulled it up closer to the table when he reached for a napkin. "I guess Hayes will be here very soon."

Teal'c tilted his head asking, "Do we not have about two hours before the President will arrive here?"

"I don't think so. He's not going to spend much time upstairs at NORAD. An introduction, a couple of short speeches and then he'll be here," Daniel summarized confidently, because Stargate Command was a much more interesting and important place than NORAD.

"I agree with Teal'c," Mitchell volunteered. "First his motorcade has to get here. And the NORAD visit will take longer that you think. There will be several speeches, possibly long ones and then refreshments. I'll be happy to tell you all about it later this morning." He finished the last of his cereal, the spoon clinking into the bottom of the empty bowl.

"You're going?" Daniel Jackson asked, his mouth open in shocked disbelief.

"Sure I'm going," Mitchell assertively replied as he gathered up the dishes and rose from his chair. "Jackson, NORAD is the main reason for him coming to Colorado Springs, we're an after thought. Those people upstairs do a lot more than track Santa. They have and will continue to play a vital role in North American defense." When he moved away from the table they didn't hear him mutter, "Dang civilians."

"Does Sam have to go too?" Daniel's question went unanswered.

Teal'c and Daniel continued their meal as several other personnel also got up to leave the commissary. Two men came out from the kitchen area and began cleaning off the tables while a woman arrived with a bucket and a mop. The two teammates were the only diners left when Daniel got chatty.

"What does NORAD stand for anyway? I'm sure I used to know, why can't I remember? Who do you think will come with Hayes? They're only going to be here for a few hours. It sure is a lot of trouble to go to."

Daniel finally took a breath, his moving hands stopping in midair. With a gleam in his eyes, Teal'c methodically answered the questions while Daniel continued eating.

"North American Aerospace Defense Command and I do not know two times."

"Huh?" Daniel took a gulp to finish off his juice.

"I was merely answering your questions Daniel Jackson. The acronym NORAD, N, O, R, A, D stands for North American Aerospace Defense Command. I do not know why you cannot remember and I do not know who will come with President Hayes."

The big Jaffa's face was a picture of amusement, especially after Daniel half choked on his juice. He coughed loudly several times before he was able to breathe properly.

"In our briefing two days ago, Landry conveniently avoided the question about who was coming with Hayes. I didn't stop to think about that until now." Daniel ate some more breakfast. "Have you?"

"I have not Daniel Jackson," Teal'c admitted, and then wonderingly asked, "Does the President require someone to accompany him wherever he travels?"

Daniel looked at his friend, speculating if Teal'c was pulling his leg with the question or if he really wanted to know. The Jaffa had been reading newspapers and watching television for many years so he wasn't as innocent or ill-informed as he sometimes pretended. In fact when it came to earth history, theology and politics, Teal'c was very well informed.

"I don't know about require, but I'm positive some high ranking official will be with him. Obviously it will have to be someone with the right clearance. And of course the people who go with him all the time though they won't be coming here. You've seen it on TV, that man is never alone. I hear he's got more secret service than we have SFs."

"I believe that to be true Daniel Jackson. Television does not reveal every aspect of the President's agenda or itinerary. Does he live in fear for his life?"

Daniel had to chuckle at the thought of television protecting the President. To him they seemed more like sharks and bottom feeders than any kind of guardian. He smiled and sipped his coffee before replying.

"I'm sure he does Teal'c. Unfortunately that's the way the world works. As for the press reports – I think they report too much. And I'm pretty sure someone important will be with him because the administration needs as many positive photo opportunities as it can get."

Teal'c jumped back in with more questions. "President Hayes has been here one time previously. Why is this time different? Are we expected to participate in a photo opportunity?" Daniel's brain went into answer mode, but the questions went unanswered as Teal'c chimed in again rather quickly.

"I am wishing I had insisted on staying off world," he solemnly stated before getting to his feet and heading for the door to leave the commissary. Just as he entered the corridor Carter came rushing around the corner and they almost ran into each other. After a quick sidestep and an apology, Teal'c kept going the way he intended while Carter rushed toward Daniel's table where he was finishing his meal.

"Hey Sam, what's your hurry?"

Carter quickly sat down and ripped open a granola bar she had clutched in her hand. "I'm trying to avoid the secret service long enough to eat something, Daniel. I don't need much time, just five minutes. Is that too much to ask?" She pulled at the wrapping, tearing it down the seam.

Daniel smiled and replied, "No, that's not too much to ask. Did you know the President's plane landed?"

"Are you sure?" She took a bite of the bar, chewing quickly.

"Yeah, that's what I heard about," he paused to look at his watch, "five minutes ago or so."

"I better hurry," Carter announced. "I still need to dress." She bit off another big bite.

"You have time, don't you? I mean, he's going to NORAD first."

Carter took the last bite and crushed the wrapper loudly in her hand. "No Daniel, I don't have much time. I've got to be upstairs soon."

"Mitchell is going too. Teal'c didn't say he was going and Landry didn't say anything to me, but.... am I supposed to go too," Daniel inquired, secretly hoping he wasn't going.

Carter stood up shaking her head. "No Daniel, it's strictly military personnel from the SGC. Besides, you've never cared about NORAD." She absently used her fingers to remove any crumbs from the corners of her mouth before saying, I've got to go."

And then she was gone. Daniel reached for his napkin thinking that Sam was as touchy about the NORAD thing as Mitchell had been. He didn't not care about NORAD. He just never had anything to do with them. Except the first sign-in desk and that wasn't technically NORAD. A kitchen worker came to the table and the archaeologist, being the last one in the dining area knew it was time to leave so they could finish cleaning up. They had a reception to prepare for and didn't need him in the way.

Peterson AFB

The Presidential Airlift Group* (PAG) ensured everything was ready outside the plane before opening the mid-level door. Only when the rolling stairs were in place and the cars pulled up did the President leave the safe bosom of Air Force One security and it was only when he was safely in his limo that the PAG crew relaxed a little. A few aisles up the over-eager Lieutenant Commander was rushing toward the front, followed quickly by a Sergeant who was trying to get his attention.

"Guess he's in a hurry," Hammond quipped, half wondering why O'Neill's sarcasm hadn't surfaced.

Hammond and O'Neill had finished dressing and were waiting to disembark when Air Force Chief of Staff General Michael Mantley came around the corner of the nearby bulkhead.

"You should have seen an Army Lieutenant a couple of weeks ago," Mantley informed them, enjoying their startled expressions because they hadn't seen him coming. Then he added, "He moved so fast that he got himself lost and then left behind. The secret service was scrambling around looking for him."

The three men chuckled. "Eventually they found him in the head." Mantley looked a little grim and stated, "Needless to say, as soon as they reestablished control the Lieutenant was – relieved."

The General's dour look turned into a half smirk. The multiple meanings of relieved weren't lost on O'Neill or Hammond and they smiled. They all watched as an agent stepped in front of the young officer stopping his forward momentum. Mantley silently shook his head when the man seemed to object to being directed to sit back down.

"The people responsible for him and his briefing will be getting their own... very soon. I'm very glad I am not the senior officer for any of them," Mantley remarked, again shaking his head.

"I would have thought you'd be off already Mike," Hammond puzzled. Mantley had been seated a little closer to the front of the plane, along with the few senior White House Staffers who made the trip.

Before Mantley could respond, a crew member brought Hammond four small boxes of official Air Force One M&Ms and after thanking her he slipped them into his portfolio. The same crew member then indicated to the three men that it was time to go. The Air Force Chief motioned for Hammond to go first before turning to the head of Homeworld Security and whispering, "I didn't want to miss this part," and the crew member who overheard him knowingly grinned. Jack smiled at the impish look on Mantley's face and stepped aside allowing the four star General to go ahead of him. As they made their way up the aisle several people moved out of the way with a senior crew member indicating for them to allow the three men to go first. When they neared the open bulkhead door they could see the line of vehicles stretching out on the tarmac and they got their first breath of Colorado air.

Standing clear of the open door were the PAG pilots and several of the crew who snapped to attention and saluted as retired General George Hammond approached. The PAG members were showing the respect and recognition due the retired Lieutenant General who was now leaving his civilian presidential advisory post and coming home to Colorado and they were honored to be a part of it. He wasn't in uniform, hadn't been for many months, but he brought up his arm and returned a salute of his own. Handshakes, quick photographs and good wishes followed and then it was time to depart.

O'Neill and Mantley placed service caps on their heads and less than a minute later the three men reached the bottom of the tall rolling stairs. Bright sunshine slicing through the clear air was welcoming as they stepped out of the way in case others needed to descend the steps behind them. The tarmac was bustling with vehicles and security personnel were everywhere. All the limos looked pretty much alike on the outside so that onlookers wouldn't know which limo contained the President.

"Jack, tell Hank we'll be along." Mantley's eyes met Hammond's as he jovially added, "And George, enjoy the ride." He didn't wait for responses. Two agents were there and the three men began walking the short distance to a car. Another agent and one of the General's aides followed behind them. O'Neill and Hammond exchanged slightly confused looks since they both thought Hammond was riding with Mantley.

"Frankly I expected everything to be more organized," Jack quipped.

Hammond laughed, "I wonder what ride I'm supposed to enjoy,"and vaguely waved his hand toward the long rows of vehicles.

O'Neill saw his security detail heading for a sedan and sighed. He was still coming to terms with being accompanied by an armed escort almost everywhere he went. He had visible security every work day from the time he left his home until he returned and also at the gym.

Other times he didn't always see them, but he knew they were there. Once at the grocery store he was surprised when a new addition to his weekend detail suddenly appeared and put a 12-pack of his favorite beer into his shopping cart saying he'd need it for his visit at General Hammond's the next afternoon. Jack had only told George that morning that he'd bring some beer.

That was when the picture truly cleared up and O'Neill knew security details were indeed his reality. Hammond had told him to just let the men and women do their jobs and that he would get used to them being around. More than a year later and Jack still hadn't gotten used to them, but he did accept them. There were far more important things to argue with the President and Joint Chiefs about than their fears concerning his personal safety.

The weather in Colorado Springs was perfect and they both knew they'd get to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex soon enough and then be inside and underground without any windows. The sky was gorgeous as the bright sun beamed on them and then out of left field Hammond asked him a question that could have made the sky darken.

"How long since you talked to SG-1, Jack?"

Not sure why Hammond would want to talk about _things_ now, O'Neill glanced around hoping for someone to intervene before grudgingly admitting, "A while," as his fingers played on the handle on his briefcase like a leather musical instrument.

Escorts were approaching so Hammond hurriedly informed him, "We'll talk before you go back."

O'Neill looked as uncomfortable as he felt, but slowly dipped his head one time in resignation.

The retired General didn't want to leave it like that and gave himself an invisible head slap for not bringing it up during the flight when they had time to talk. For whatever reasons SG-1 had been avoiding O'Neill since they came back from delivering Merlin's weapon through the super gate. He didn't have all the details, knew it was all of SG-1, but he also knew it had to do with Dr Jackson and he'd learned a long time ago that when the archaeologist was unhappy so was everyone else.

There'd been a similar time when Jack left the SGC to take the job in DC. Hammond decided then that it was like children who go away to school, then get married and live away from the folks. They freak out when their parents decide to sell the house and move to Florida. Teal'c was the oldest, Carter was the middle child and Daniel the youngest. All three left home and went to pursue other things, but to them O'Neill was the parent who was selling the house and moving away and the children were irked.

That time it took almost a month for the _children_ to come to their senses and to this day the relationships still had some clouds. Hammond could only guess at the problem with the three original SG-1 members, but he couldn't even begin to imagine how the other two SG-1 team members, Vala Mal Doran and Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell fit into any of it. He didn't have time to ponder it further though because their escorts were suddenly there.

Two men in dark suits and dark sunglasses and obviously with the President's security force stepped up and one of them announced, "General Hammond, this way, you'll be riding with the President."

Jack saw surprise on Hammond's face and smiling he told him, "I'll see you at the mountain, sir," very pleased that President Hayes intended to make his friend's return home very special. No wonder Mantley told him to enjoy the ride. Hammond's gentle smile was followed by a single nod which caused the sun to reflect off the top of his shiny head.

Jack watched for a couple of seconds before following his own escort. Glancing over he saw Hammond at the President's limo and recognized both the Air Force Academy Superintendent and the Commandant standing with him. They shook hands, a door was opened and then Hammond and the two Generals got inside the heavily armored vehicle.

Jack and his escort walked by a large male tan and black German Shepherd and his handler and turning to watch the handsome dog he noticed for the first time a dingy bus at the back of the plane for reporters. In contrast the line of limos with dark tinted windows gleamed in the bright sunlight, even the escort vehicles looking shiny and more inviting after a quick wash.

They stepped up to the open door of #3, a spacious limo, not an Air Force sedan where Jack removed his cover and began to fold his tall frame into the car. He was on the right side and would face forward, giving him the opportunity to disembark first when they got to the mountain. Nodding a welcome to his traveling companions, he placed his cap and briefcase on the seat next to him and buckled his seat belt. The Peterson Base Commander next to him and Major Paul Davis sitting across from the Commander were more than acceptable traveling companions for the drive up the mountain.

"General... Major Davis, fancy meeting you here," O'Neill quipped.

The older Brigadier General laughed saying, "How are you, General O'Neill?"

They engaged in small talk for only another few seconds when a secret service agent climbed in and took the seat directly across from Jack and another agent moved into the passenger seat upfront as the privacy partition slid into place. Almost immediately the car started moving in line with all the others. Limousines, Air Force sedans and SUVs accompanied by more than a dozen other assorted Air Force vehicles found their way to the northeast gate of Peterson Air Force Base where Colorado State Patrol and Colorado Springs Police Department cruisers pulled into place to accompany the military escort.

Ten yards beyond the gatehouse more than two dozen motorcycle officers picked up the procession as military and police helicopters circled in the sky above. The cars slowly wound their way past the base perimeter fence where fire department rescue squads and two ambulances with more police escort, including another dozen motorcycle officers joined them. There were lights, but no sirens and with intersections blocked off there would be no scheduled stop for any of them until the leading escort vehicle reached the first perimeter checkpoint at Cheyenne Mountain.

The three officers didn't talk much, just a few comments here and there as the motorcade got going. O'Neill and the General knew each other and while they were friendly, Jack knew the older man hadn't gotten over his rather quick advancement. With all the changes coming to NORAD and Peterson AFB, the Brigadier was going to retire in another five months, having never received another promotion.

Inside the President's limousine

The motorcade was moving along smoothly and after a couple minutes of small talk with Hammond and the two Academy Generals, President Hayes told the three men, "Beautiful morning, nice climate."

"It's Colorado, Sir," the three star Superintendent informed him, then smiling he clarified, "It's pretty nice even during a late Spring blizzard."

President Hayes chuckled lightly and replied, "That it is." He paused for a few seconds remembering the last few times he was in Colorado. A visit to Stargate Command more than two years ago and prior to that a couple of campaign stops before the election. Both of those times he was in Denver and hadn't made it to Colorado Springs. He didn't know about the Stargate program at that time and suddenly remembered Robert Kinsey being very cagey when he was supposedly campaigning in Colorado. Knowing now what he was up to then, Hayes decided he needed to think about something else.

"I went fly fishing over by Durango on the Animas* several years ago. Mild days and some of the most beautiful natural surroundings I've ever seen in my life. People forget about the San Juan Mountains, think only about the Rockies."

Hammond had fished the Animas River a couple of times with Jack O'Neill and knew about the freestone fishery. "Did you catch anything, Mr President?"

"I did. He was this big," and he stretched out his arms wider apart than any trout ever grew before bringing his hands a little closer together. The others laughed knowingly and he revealed just what it was that he caught. "Actually he was about 16 inches. A feisty cutbow* weighing in at just about five pounds. I have a picture. Remind me the next time you come to DC."

The conversation stayed on fishing for a couple more minutes before changing to other things.

"We're secure here gentlemen," Hayes informed them, uncrossing then crossing his legs the other way. "I understand you want to rekindle the Stargate training program for cadets."

The Generals weren't shocked the subject came up, they were just a little surprised it was coming up now. A couple of months before Anubis attacked earth, the training program was suspended because of an incidence. One 2nd Lieutenant who was doing really well on an SG team, resigned his commission after his best friend was killed in Iraq and when he left almost everyone would have bet that he'd reveal the program no matter the consequences to himself. He did, but it was vague and written in a suicide note. O'Neill and Hammond talked to the young man's parents who agreed to stay quiet until disclosure someday when their son's contribution would be revealed.

Also it was impossible to properly vet the Academy cadets and recent graduates, and questions were being raised about young officers dying in training accidents in Colorado Springs. Couldn't blame anyone for asking the questions since the stats indicated the new officers were safer in Iraq and Afghanistan than there were stationed in the Springs.

"I don't know if I want to do that, Mr President. I just want to talk about it," the Superintendent admitted. The one star Commandant nodded, showing his agreement with the statement.

"George, what do you think," the President asked his retiring confidant.

Hammond had opinions about everything and this topic was no exception. "I believe the same thing I believed over three years ago." He looked right at the Academy leaders and then at Hayes. "We should adopt similar guidelines to some other top secret and sensitive programs." The others looked thoughtful, but didn't speak so he clarified his position. "Minimum service after the academy, say at least five years or as many as ten and two years for vetting."

He paused for a few seconds then continued with his discourse. "We originally thought we'd lose too many of the bright ones, that they'd serve the minimum and be gone if we didn't give them something to sink their teeth into. We've found out since then that the program itself hasn't been incentive enough for some of them. It's about money and as long as they're on the Air Force payroll they are not going to get rich."

"Thank goodness not all of them feel that way," the President volunteered. "What about enlisted?"

"Five year minimum and same vetting. We wait out those who aren't serious about an Air Force career," Hammond stated. "Similar guidelines for Marines. We get both officers and enlisted a little older, more mature, serious, committed."

The Superintendent spoke up with, "O'Neill always said we had to be careful about target fixation when we looked at possibles for the SG training. That we have to look at much more than them getting into the academy, maintaining high grades and being brilliant. It was like seeing the wind. It's impossible in such a short time to tell who is truly dedicated to the program."

"And the mission," Hammond added, remembering many discussions with Jack, and quoted him. "Who can see the wind? No one can see the wind, only the result of the wind."

"Ah yes, target fixation and wind. Sounds like Jack O'Neill," the President fondly remarked and they all chuckled.

They all liked and admired O'Neill who had a way of looking at the world and at situations that defied convention. He'd been right about the training program, right about younger service members. He pushed for scientists to work in the program without knowing about the gate until they were vetted and he had asked all of them to reconsider the possible fallout from reviving the program without major changes.

The limo slowed as it prepared to make a turn and the four men continued with their chat about how to factor in ROTC service and then about other things, like how every day they face the choice of what is right or what is easy, and less earth shattering - why the Academy Dean of Students hadn't made it to Peterson to ride with them.

TBC

*Presidential Airlift Group – part of Air Mobility Command''s 89th Airlift Wing based at Andrews Air Force Base.

**Animas River – named "El Rio de las Animas Perdidas" (River of the Lost Souls) by the Spanish

***Cutbow – fertile hybrid produced when cutthroat interbreeds with rainbow trout. Cutthroats also breed with Gila and Apache trout to produce hybrids.

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Feedback of all kinds is greatly appreciated. :)


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter and the next are examples of my self indulgence going completely wacko. I never wanted any of this to be in the show, but I really wanted to write about it. It contains missing scenes and additional info from the sixth season episode "Smoke and Mirrors," flashbacks and memories made up from ideas in my brain. If you don't care about that part of this story, you can skip through it by not reading any of the italicized text. I hope you won't want to skip it, but you can.

Please welcome Zeilfanaat, my new proofreader and confidant, also parttime sounding board and possible beta. We're trying it out and will get through this if she doesn't kill me first. :)

Before even reading chapter 6, this was Zeilfanaat's response: "lol - you may end up killing me first... ;) "

I can now tell you that she did a great job and I will be sending her chapter 7 very soon. But keep in mind that anything at all wrong with this chapter is on me, and me alone.

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**Chapter 6**

Peterson shared runways with Colorado Springs Airport, but was closer to the SGC than Schriever AFB ten miles east, and while both places could be properly secured, those extra miles would just add travel time. The city traffic controllers were already pulling out their hair and wanted the motorcade off the roads as soon as possible. The planned route was for the convoy to move south and then west, past the south end of Colorado Springs Airport, where, after a couple of tight turns the vehicles would navigate their way to Academy Boulevard and then to state highway 115*.

Morning rush hour traffic was usually pretty heavy and that day was no exception. The route had been secured, and motorists waiting in halted cross traffic who had missed the news, would curse the interruption to their morning commute, before noticing the American flags decorating the long line of black limousines. If they had heard, then the massive military presence would only confirm the news accounts about the President visiting NORAD for the first time in two and a half years.

While the long motorcade zipped along at a very brisk, but safe pace, the three officers sat back enjoying the smooth ride and thinking. The Peterson Base Commander, Major Paul Davis and General Jack O'Neill shared a history relating to a few years back when O'Neill was accused of murdering Senator Kinsey. None of them knew they were each thinking about those days now.

Major Paul Davis admired Jack O'Neill and was glad they were working together in DC. The Major was still hoping for promotion to lieutenant colonel and thought it couldn't hurt to be on the General's good side. While O'Neill had been a Colonel for more years than Davis had been a Major, his unique skills were in high demand and he'd wanted to stay in the field as long as possible. Davis just wanted a bump to Lieutenant Colonel and was hoping O'Neill could offer some advice about how to get the promotions board to notice him.

Hammond had tried, even getting him positioned for a couple of off world gigs, but it hadn't been enough, mostly due to the secrecy involved. Davis seemed to think O'Neill might have out-of-the-box ideas on what else he should be doing. He'd waited for the latest promotions list before broaching the subject, and the General had said he'd think about it. Only five days later the invitation for this trip had come along. It was unexpected, the huge crowd at NORAD didn't need a Pentagon Major, but the biggest surprise was the ride to Colorado Springs on Air Force One. The flight was great and visiting the SGC always brought back memories, both good and bad for Davis.

His brain went on automatic and fast forwarded past the foothold situation, the deadly black hole, the planet killing asteroid and the replicators, right to the supposed Kinsey assassination and he inwardly flinched. He remembered being visibly relieved when SG-1 and General Hammond accepted his apology and he hadn't been sure that O'Neill would. Yes the evidence had pointed to him, but the Major had learned something that day about trust, loyalty and gut feelings. And reasonable doubt. The beautiful Colorado scenery whipped by as Paul Davis remembered those days.

_He arrived at the mountain complex unannounced. Along with him were personnel from Peterson Air Force Base designated by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and ordered by the Base Commander to take Colonel Jack O'Neill into custody for the murder of Senator Robert Kinsey. An officer from AFOSI* was delayed, but the men were instructed not to wait for him._

_Davis remembered the enlisted man at the first security checkpoint nervously notifying General Hammond and getting the okay to send them down. At sub level 11 there were no delays. The sergeant on duty had already received word and following the ID check and sign-in, the men were escorted into the second elevator._

_At General Hammond's office the security detail stayed outside while Davis went in alone to explain. He remembered standing at attention feeling like a gnat under a poised fly swatter while the General used the telephone. After slamming down the handset the CO used the phone for internal calls and contacted his security chief. A minute later when the officer arrived, Davis was abruptly ordered to remain behind while Hammond went with the men to get O'Neill. While he waited in the briefing room an airman brought him coffee and several minutes later announced that the General had gone to the surface and would be back in a few minutes._

_When Davis asked about the General Hammond going topside, the airman told him that he thought the General probably went with them so Colonel O'Neill wouldn't have to be handcuffed and chained until he got outside. Regulations and procedure would have the Colonel restrained immediately, but Hammond would have intervened. He added that the arrest had spread through the mountain like wildfire and everyone was pretty shocked._

_Davis asked him what he thought about the Colonel being a murderer and the young man confidently told him that somebody was making a big mistake because there was no way that Colonel O'Neill shot Senator Kinsey. Fifteen minutes later he watched as the General and an angry SG-1 minus O'Neill came into the briefing room. A minute later he would have described them as shocked, saddened and defensive, very defensive._

_None of them seemed able to accept that O'Neill could be a murderer, though all of them had seen him kill. Davis honestly doubted O'Neill's innocence and wondered how General Hammond could allow the rest of SG-1 to take the time and use the resources to do what was clearly a police matter. It wasn't their job to investigate anything outside Stargate Command and especially a clear cut case like the one against O'Neill. At the time he didn't exactly think about just how clear cut a case it was, or appeared to be anyway._

The motorcade traveled along Bradley Road and in another couple of minutes would make the turn to the ramp for S. Academy Boulevard. The major thoroughfare had no cars moving in either direction since local law enforcement had blocked all entrances a little earlier, before the plane landed. Major Davis glanced at both Generals who were looking out their own side windows and his mind went back to that day.

_The investigation team had a damning video of O'Neill, or his exact double carrying the gun case and __leaving the building where the shot was fired and they found the weapon in the lake near his cabin. They test fired the sniper rifle and found a ballistics match to the round removed from Senator Kinsey. The authorities didn't have all of Jack O'Neill's service record, but they knew enough to confirm that he could have easily made the shot. They believed he had. They didn't have a motive until they spoke to the Senator's driver and body guards and decided a long standing grudge was sufficient. It all added up to means, motive and opportunity._

_Davis remembered the conversation with Hammond after SG-1 left the briefing room. He'd followed the General back to his office and after seeing the Major standing there, the General invited him to come in and sit down. After a few seconds of silence Hammond asked the obvious question. Did Davis truly believe O'Neill was a murderer? His answer was no, but then he conceded to yes. He argued the evidence. Hammond argued the man. When Davis left the office, he still believed O'Neill probably shot Senator Kinsey, but thought it had to be because of alien influence or something._

The cavalcade neared the interstate with the police making sure local traffic didn't stop and Jack could see the cars slowing down as people leaned out side windows trying to see the passing limousines on the road below them. Towering majestic snow capped mountains, clear and mostly pollutant-free crisp air with breathtaking blue high altitude skies and gorgeous early morning sunshine was relaxing and he just sat back and watched the scenery going by while discreetly keeping an eye on the car's other occupants. Being in the car with the Peterson Base Commander and Major Davis brought back memories from that unpleasant time in his life and career.

_Jack remembered feeling refreshed coming off leave. He'd caught no fish because there were no pesky fish in his pond to catch, but the fishing was as it should be, soothing and refreshing. Arriving home rather late after the 15 hour drive, he avoided the TV, radio and newspaper figuring if anything earth shattering had happened someone would call him or come by the house and he spent the hour before bed on his roof deck, sipping iced tea and watching the stars._

_The next morning was good with him arriving at the mountain ahead of schedule, figuring to have plenty of time to change into BDUs and get some breakfast. Then he found out about Kinsey and was __confronted by General Hammond. The morning turned into the opposite of soothing and refreshing._

_Having no choice, he went with the security detail and Hammond to the surface after his CO assured him that he would do his best to figure out what was going on, and find a way to counter whatever it was they had that made them believe Jack was a murderer. The group stepped out of the elevator and off to the side where Jack emptied his pockets with the SFs prepared to retain everything, but Hammond pulled rank and without orders to the contrary, the men had to obey the senior officer and handed the personal items over to him. Jack was thankful his CO took his __wallet, watch, sunglasses and keys, knowing that they might get lost in the shuffle, and he certainly didn't want to leave his IDs and credit cards with just anybody._

_With Hammond, the SGC security chief and NOR__AD personnel looking on, Jack was frisked, his wrists cuffed and his ankles shackled. Then he was taken to a vehicle and restrained inside for the ride to Peterson where a civilian special agent from AFOSI* and an officer from the AFJAG* were waiting for him. He was read his Article 31 Rights* and as they walked to the secure lockup, __they told him what was going to happen in the next couple of days. He was fingerprinted, photographed, stripped and dressed in blue-gray coveralls, white t-shirt and prison issue vinyl shoes and taken to his temporary abode - a single long term detention cell with round the clock video surveillance and two men right outside watching him all the time._

The Peterson Base Commander was noticing how relaxed O'Neill looked and his memories took him to a time when that was not the case. Following orders, he'd sent men to Cheyenne Mountain to take Colonel Jack O'Neill into custody for the murder of US Senator Robert Kinsey. He had known of O'Neill, had dealings with NORAD and Deep Space Telemetry from time to time, and hadn't wanted to believe the man had done what they had accused him of doing. He had been actually relieved when his friend George Hammond had called to say he too didn't believe it.

_Hammond called to tell him that he really believed that it was an elaborate frame and set-up and it was imperative that O'Neill survive to be vindicated. He didn't break the Colonel's confidence, but did in so many words let him know that O'Neill didn't tolerate being confined in smaller places very well. He didn't believe the man was suicidal, but he would be antsy and obviously angry about the accusations and charges._

_The Commander understood anger and followed through by doing all he could for the Colonel, partly because he didn't want a death in custody on his watch, but also because he himself was a little claustrophobic. He would make sure nobody got to the Colonel and that the man didn't harm himself. He also approved the visitors from the mountain who came to see O'Neill, knowing Hammond had screened them first._

_Security procedures would not be changed, but there were other things that could be done to make the stay a little easier to stomach. While in lockup the Colonel was allowed newspapers, magazines and books as well as a small radio, was offered a hot shower daily and allowed to spend an hour a day outside if he wanted, which could be divided into two 30 minute periods._

_The Commander arranged for O'Neill to receive an extra cup of coffee with breakfast, a soda or coffee in the afternoon and a light snack in the evening in addition to his three regular meals. The guards relayed to him that the Colonel didn't always eat the snack, but was thankful for the extra coffee._

_He instructed the guards to address him by his rank instead of "prisoner O'Neill" - he was only accused, but that would change if he was convicted, because the Air Force would most certainly arrange for his dishonorable discharge._

_And if the Colonel wanted to talk, the two guards watching him were allowed to chat about anything not related to the charges, assuming the man wanted a little conversation. They were also instructed to turn their backs while the Colonel attended to personal needs. The Commander knew he couldn't be that modest after so many years in the military and had certainly sat on the throne in front of others, but not being scrutinized while doing it was a good thing and they were to give him some privacy._

_A day later the Commander called the Air Force JAG to let him know JPATS* was snarling at his door. O__'Neill's transfer to DC was immediately approved and arranged._

The Commander had been surprised when Hammond had transferred to DC to head up a department he'd never heard anything about, but even more surprised when O'Neill had been promoted. As far as he knew, the man had apparently been AWOL* for a while following the destruction of the Pacific fleet battle group by a strange meteor shower, which mysteriously also caused damage to several power grids.

It was strange no charges were ever brought against O'Neill, and though the General admitted not knowing the man's credentials, he thought being absent without leave and being accused of murder, no matter the weird circumstances should count against him. He wondered how the majority of people in Deep Space Radar Telemetry could work for O'Neill, but he learned to live with it, even liking the man in their dealings, until just about a year later when O'Neill was promoted again. That was hard to stomach and he'd never gotten over it. It wasn't O'Neill's fault though, so he tried to not harbor bad feelings toward the man as his own career was coming to an end.

Cars were still not allowed onto Academy Boulevard and the motorcade proceeded quickly, going under Interstate 25 and traveling close to the posted speed limit. It was a fairly smooth highway and one that O'Neill was familiar with since he'd lived in Colorado Springs for so long. He saw the blocked controlled intersection looming ahead and briefly wondered why he ended up sharing a limo with both these men, but decided it really didn't matter since it had all ended happily... eventually.

_Flown by Air Force transport to Bolling Air Force Base in the darkness of a very early morning, O'Neill was trussed up so tight he couldn't hope to get comfortable so didn't sleep at all. The flight was loud and bumpy, but at least he wasn't cold since they'd made sure he was covered with an extra blanket. The sun was high in the sky as they landed, two hours ahead of Colorado time and he was taken to a holding cell in the stockade. A very young airman brought him a lunch tray, but he didn't eat very much._

_His nerves were getting to him and while not afraid, he was apprehensive. He paced back and forth in the small cell for about an hour and was just thinking about laying down on the cot when the DC police detectives arrived. The hadn't waited for him to be delivered, instead they came to get him, demanding he be turned over to them immediately. The investigation was ongoing, but truthfully it was basically over since they believed they had their murderer and now it would be up to the justice system._

_The DC Metropolitan Police Chief decided that if he was in their custody then they'd get first crack at him. The Feds already said they wanted him because he killed a US Senator and it was therefore a capital case, but the DC Chief of Police and District Attorney were firm believers in possession being nine tenths of the law. DC didn't have the death penalty, but if the US Attorney wanted O'Neill then he'd have to come bearing gifts to get him from the DC lockup and into DOJ* custody._

_The transfer wasn't pleasant, but nothing about any of it was. O'Neill was careful not to do anything that antagonized his handlers as he was roughly frisked and advised of his Miranda* rights now that he was in civilian custody. The cuffs and shackles were applied tightly and the chain with an extension was wrapped twice around his waist because of the bulky bulletproof vest, but he didn't complain. In fact he didn't make a sound after saying yes to indicate he understood his rights._

_When all was ready, __the Bolling Air Force Base security commander wished him good luck, and O'Neill replied with a short nod of his head before being hustled briskly away. Just as he was being secured, a call came through stating the US Marshal Service* was at the base gate requesting access to take O'Neill into their custody. It was actually amusing for Jack to see their reactions while they rushed to get him away. Who knew anyone would want to fight over a lowly Air Force Colonel?_

_The trip in the unmarked armored van with police cruiser escorts was mercifully short and it wasn't long before he was subjected to the civilian booking procedures. Mug shots and fingerprints took about 20 minutes and then he answered all their questions. Did he have any medical conditions for which he was taking medications that he would need in the next six hours? Did he have any allergies? What about latex? Was he sure? Did he have any tattoos? Did he have any physical disabilities that required special accommodations? He stripped and was thoroughly searched before taking a lukewarm shower __and donning boxers, orange jail clothes, white socks and nondescript sandal-type shoes. A plastic ID bracelet was placed around his wrist and secured by using a pressing tool._

_Jack signed the sheet documenting his property, including the blue-gray coveralls, white t-shirt, socks, boxers and footwear from Peterson, after which h__e was cuffed with his hands in front right before somone plopped a stack of items on his outstretched forearms. He noticed pajamas, two white towels, a white pillow case, a white v-neck t-shirt, another pair of boxers and white socks, and a small prepackaged bag of toiletry items. Into his hands the guard placed a roll of toilet paper and two paper cups, and for the first time Jack noticed that all the personnel from the clerks to the guards wore examination gloves and that had to be what the Latex question was all about._

_He was escorted by four guards through three checkpoints to a section of the general population pods. Walking down the corridors with eyes straight ahead he was aware of the many faces looking out through the small in-door windows and the disgusting catcalls announcing fresh meat. They arrived outside an open nondescript door where two more guards were standing nearby._

The guard closest to him instructed him to go inside and put his items on the bed, and while he complied they stepped out. He was then told to stick his hands out through the small rectangular hinged opening under the window and they removed the cuffs. Fighting back claustrophobia and the bitter memories of other small places, he stepped slowly around his new surroundings, committing every crappy detail to memory.

_The cell walls were unmarked and though the floor looked freshly mopped and the toilet and sink appeared clean, the underlying odor of the place didn't convey freshness at all. It was very noisy with loud voices and clanging metal as cell doors nearby were slammed shut. The room had two hard cots which appeared to be identical and at the foot of each was a white sheet, a blanket and a vinyl covered pillow. After placing his items on an open shelf on the wall, he quickly made up the bottom bunk and laid down on his back placing his clenched fists over his eyes._

_His heightened awareness signaled and he glanced to the door in time to see a guard peering at him through the small Plexiglas covered opening. Ignoring the scrutiny, he tried to calm his nerves by closing his eyes again and thinking about his team along with Hammond and Frasier working hard to vindicate him. Did they know he'd been transferred? Had they found anything since the discovery of the missing mimic devices?_

_Five and a half hours later four big guards took him from his cell in handcuffs and they walked to a small room at the end of an adjacent corridor. A little man with cold eyes and even colder hands gave him a perfunctory examination and asked him two pages of questions before passing him back to the guards, who pushed him down the hallway and back into his cell, where he found his chosen cot occupied by another man. He was about 25 years old, with dirty blond hair, blue eyes and a large tattoo on his right forearm._

_As he reached his arms out to have the cuffs removed he heard the rumble of a trolley and in another few minutes he and his cell mate each had a brown bag supper consisting of bologna sandwich, small bag of chips, a waxed red delicious apple and a can of Dr Pepper. The other man ate without speaking and O'Neill did the same after making his new bed. Both men remained quiet and stationary on their cots for the next few hours before they changed into pajamas and the lights went out._

_He slept fitfully and didn't have to be awakened in the morning. He'd spent most of the night listening __to the sounds of the cell block, w__hich weren't pleasant, and for any sign from his cell mate. Breakfast consisted of two pre-packaged cereal bars, an already peeled orange and coffee in a Styrofoam cup. They again ate in the cell and Jack wondered how long it would be before they went to the prisoner dining hall for meals. He remembered someone saying that it would be at least a day and as many as five depending on how well they believe he acclimated._

_Taken from the cell to a small room where a video system was linked to one in the courthouse, he heard the charges against him, and after entering a plea of not guilty, bail was denied and he was ordered remanded for the duration. Jack didn't need a head slap to know things had just gone from bad to worse, so on the way back to his cell he asked the guards about making a phone call. The men led him around a corner to a prisoner access wall phone, which connected to an operator for outgoing collect calls, and told him he had 10 minutes._

_General Hammond's voice sounded like music to his ears as they discussed his legal problem. Jack was entitled to free representation through Air Force JAG and though he appreciated the fact that, __as a Colonel he could get a high ranking lawyer with tons of murder trial experience, he quickly explained to his friend why he thought a civilian criminal attorney was a better idea._

_Hammond had patiently listened, knowing Jack didn't have a lot of time and in the end agreed he was right and offered to make a couple of calls to find someone good who also had access to a capable private investigator. Jack knew there were credit card receipts for his purchase of supplies and gasoline on the day Kinsey was shot. There might also be video tapes from security cameras and he knew the authorities were only looking for things to convict him, not things that would exonerate him._

_He also thought a hiker, a man known to live in a cabin about four miles away had seen him on the day in question. Jack remembered the man with his long walking stick and two dogs pausing for a few minutes to rest and they had waved a greeting to each other. There was evidence of his alibi out there, but it would take a professional to find it. That short call, the friendly voice of a person who didn't believe him a murderer, would sustain Jack for the rest of the day._

_Around 11:00 AM Jack and his cell mate were led outside to the exercise yard where several other prisoners were huddled in small groups and noticeably looking right at O'Neill. He was Caucasian and they were not. He was quite a bit older and they looked to be 18 to 30 years old. He had military cut gray hair and they had either longer hair or shaved heads. They had lots of body art, Jack did not. Orange was the only thing they seemed to have in common._

_One of the guards barked that they had 55 minutes before he walked away leaving them alone. The Air Force Officer looked around and saw at least three uniformed individuals in perch positions with weapons poised and he silently wondered about their ammunition. His cell mate moved toward the others while Jack walked slowly down one wall, away from everyone to stretch his legs and then he turned around and went back the same way._

_He repeated the path several times before noticing that two men were on his side of the __enclosure. They looked jumpy, and from the way they kept glancing around, they seemed to be thinking about more than just shadowing him. Jack glanced at the snipers before moving to the center of the yard hoping to keep some distance, but knowing it really wasn't possible, he accepted that this might very well be his first test._

_They kept following him and Jack wondered how he'd tell the guards he wanted to cut short his __exercise time or if it was even allowed. It happened quickly and painfully. He found himself knocked down with at least two men on top of him before he could even think about reacting._

TBC

*Colorado State Highway 115, also called Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Highway

*AFOSI – Air Force Office of Special Investigations

*AFJAG (JAG) - Air Force Judge Advocate General

*Article 31 Rights – UCMJ Uniformed Code of Military Justice – Article 31 Compulsory Self-Incrimination Prohibited (military version of Miranda rights, but the military had them long before the US Supreme Court announced their ruling)

*JPATS – Justice Prisoner and Alien Transportation System – personnel and fleet of planes for prisoner transfer

*AWOL - absent without leave

*DOJ – Department of Justice

*Miranda Warning – Civilian Law Enforcement must advise an arrested person of their right to remain silent, right to an attorney, etc.

*US Marshal Service – provides ground transportation for prisoner transfer

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About the footnotes – sorry, I couldn't get the little number feature thingy to work and six of the nine with three or more asterisks was just ridiculous, so designated them all with just one *. Figured anyone who wanted could just read down the list to find what they're looking for. Hope that was okay.

As always, suggestions, advice, corrections and feedback of all kinds - good, bad or indifferent – positive, negative or neutral – all comments are very much appreciated. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Second part of my self indulgence going wacko. It contains missing scenes and missing info from the sixth season episode "Smoke and Mirrors," flashbacks and memories made up from ideas in my brain. If you don't care about that part of this story, you can skip through it by not reading any of the italicized text. I hope you won't skip it, but you can. (The preview looked okay so hopefully the text is right)

Special thanks to Zeilfanaat for her work making this so much better than the way I originally wrote it. As always, keep in mind that anything at all wrong with this chapter is on me, and me alone. And I own nothing of the Stargate world.

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Previously in chapter 6 - Jack_ repeated the path several times before noticing that two men were on his side of the enclosure. They looked jumpy, and from the way they kept glancing around, they seemed to be thinking about more than just shadowing him. Jack glanced at the snipers before moving to the center of the yard hoping to keep some distance, but knowing it really wasn't possible, he accepted that this might very well be his first test. __They kept following him and Jack wondered how he'd tell the guards he wanted to cut short his exercise time or if it was even allowed. It happened quickly, and painfully. Jack found himself knocked down with at least two men on top of him before he could even think about reacting._

**Chapter 7**

_They had used his aloneness against him and he had been outflanked, but thankfully the guards were fast and he wasn't seriously hurt. Two detainees were on the ground groaning when two guards hauled Jack up and pushed him chest first against the block wall. In another few seconds he was handcuffed and being marched back through a door to his cell with the guard muttering to him about being a trouble magnet, and getting himself shot even if it was with rubber bullets. O'Neill stayed silent and kept walking, but couldn't help wondering how long he could survive before having to defend himself._

_Jail personnel filled the hallway and even though he'd been in the guards' presence the entire time, they had him strip down to his boxers and stand with his hands on his head off to the side while personnel went through his discarded clothes and tossed both racks. The sheets, pillow cases, pillows and thin blankets went to the floor and when they decided there was nothing else to look at, Jack was instructed to open his mouth and stick out his tongue. Then they had him drop his boxers to his ankles, squat and pull apart his cheeks, before finally being left alone to get redressed and put his bed back together._

_Later he was told by a guard that there was the possibility of not only a strip search every time he was out of his cell, but a cavity search as well. They were free to search his cell, his belongings and his body anytime they felt like it. When his cell mate returned they treated him the same way, but left the cell since it had been checked already. To keep peace with the man, O'Neill had remade both bunks and returned the personal items to their rightful place._

The procession of vehicles slowed in preparation for the turn from Academy Boulevard south onto State Highway 115* and Jack knew they'd be to Norad Road pretty quickly. He'd certainly driven it often enough during his time in Colorado Springs. His brain went back to his time in jail in the nation's capital and he briefly wondered why it seemed some part of him wanted to complete the memory.

_While waiting for them to finish, Jack was close to two other guards and learned the man's name was Jenkins and he was charged with commercial burglary, possession of stolen property and resisting arrest. The Feds were looking at him for manufacture and distribution of meth* hoping to get him a mandatory minimum sentence. He'd been moved from the medical ward where he'd been since being arrested two days ago. At that time he was high on drugs and had a bite wound on his arm from a police dog._

_Lunch came in a brown bag and the rest of the day slithered by slowly. Dinner was a strange kind of goulash and a hard roll served on a plastic tray, and though Jack didn't relish it, he'd had worse, much worse, so he ate a little with a plastic spoon and drank the Dr Pepper._

_The next morning the two men still hadn't spoken to each other when Jenkins went to the exercise yard without Jack, who had decided to pass on the opportunity. Showering though was not an option and Jack was taken there with several other men where his first time in the communal shower room was almost his last._

_The guards watched, but stayed well back from the water stream, and it only took a few seconds while his head was under the spray for other inmates to jump him. He could have fought back, could have stopped them, could have hurt them, but that wasn't an option if he was to ever get home. So he stayed down on the wet tile floor with his knees pulled up and his arms around his head waiting for someone to intervene._

_It seemed a long time, but probably wasn't before the blows stopped and a guard yelled his name and told him to get up. His nose was bloody, he had a scrape on his chin, and his abdomen, back and chest were a little sore, but he was grateful to not be seriously injured. Good thing too because the medical care probably sucked. The other prisoners taunted him as he quickly rinsed his hair and washed the blood from his face. He grabbed a towel and stepped away from the water to get dressed as another guard approached carrying some paper towels for his dripping nose._

_O'Neill didn't look at anyone or say anything then, or on the short walk back, but the message was clear when he was unexpectedly shoved hard and fell to the concrete floor. Big hands roughly grabbed his arms and pulled him up before pushing him into his tiny, but hopefully safer cell. Wrong!_

_Joined in the cell by two guards who didn't want to chat, he was pushed forcefully to the floor while the men, pretending to frisk him reached between his legs grabbing his crotch. O'Neill softly hissed through clenched teeth as large gloved hands roamed over his body while they mocked him about not fighting back in either the yard or the shower._

_He stayed down, spreadeagled on the floor waiting for them to get bored and leave, which they did when he didn't react to any of it. He waited a full minute after hearing the cell door close before dragging his body up and over to the bunks. It took extra effort to propel himself onto the top bed, but he made it and laid back to catch his breath and think about his predicament._

_To his surprise, that same day Major Davis came to see him. He tried to walk and then sit normally, not wanting the Major to know he'd been injured. Unable to talk specifics about the SGC investigation, they'd talked briefly about mostly nothing, but Davis did reassure him that everyone was still working hard to get the evidence of a frame and pin down the facts about those responsible._

_He was thankful for the canteen money Davis had arranged, having at least a newspaper would certainly help with boredom. Jack clammed up when asked about his treatment and the visit ended with him working hard to appear like nothing was wrong, but finally limping back to the door to leave._

_Knowing the Major had noticed his injuries, he wasn't shocked at all when later that day he was taken to see a doctor who gently persuaded him to open his shirt, and found the severe bruising on his chest, back and abdomen. Then he dropped his pants revealing the bruises on his thighs and buttocks._

_Jack let the doctor examine him for groin trauma, but stopped short of an internal exam. And as bad as the exam was, he did appreciate the __Tylenol, the instant cold pack and the__ move to a single isolation cell where a bright red jumpsuit replaced the orange clothes. Then came word that the charges against __him were being amended. He wasn't a murderer after all. Senator Kinsey was alive. Not well, but alive and Jack was only charged with attempted murder. That and a whole slew of other charges._

_His sanity was preserved by a phone call he was finally allowed to make, and he remembered General Hammond not sounding surprised at all when the operator asked him to accept the charges for a collect call from Jack O'Neill. The conversation lasted a little over five minutes and served to strengthen Jack's belief that maybe he really was going to go home... sooner rather than __later._

_Without going into details, Hammond had told him about Teal'c and Jonas uncovering the financial aspect of the plot, and how Carter along with Barrett of the NID, had found the shooter. He learned that she had missed visiting hours the day before and following a meeting at the Pentagon was on her way back to Colorado Springs. Hammond hadn't needed to explain, because Jack was fine with her not seeing him in jail, and he knew all three members of SG-1 had already been away from their regular duties for far too long._

_As fast as the charges changed, so did his status, though getting out took longer than he liked. Nobody was in a hurry the day he was finally going to be released, but finally he'd been taken to shower and then to a holding room, instead of his cell or the open area next to the communal shower room, to dress. Locked in, alone and with no guards watching him, he'd put on his uniform and__ then waited._

_He had straightened his tie, and nervously smoothed his jacket while slowly circling the small room like a caged tiger, still not completely convinced they were letting him go. That feeling stayed with him on the walk through the building, even though he wasn't handcuffed, and all the way to an actual office for out-processing, where, when they called him Colonel O'Neill he still wondered. He finally believed he was really leaving when they had him sign a ledger acknowledging receipt of his belongings, before being handed a plastic bag containing the brig clothes._

_Beyond the final sliding heavy metal door, Major Paul Davis was waiting for him with a handshake and the personal items he'd left with General Hammond days before. It felt good to have wallet and keys in his pocket, along with his watch on his wrist, and feeling more human than he had in a while, he didn't even care that he'd been ordered to report to the Pentagon. Wanting a full and complete explanation about what had happened, he knew that was the best place next to Stargate Command to find out._

Major Davis was gently wrenched from his admiration of the picturesque route when the limo negotiated the tight curve of the cloverleaf to get from the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Highway onto Norad Road, and he saw Fort Carson out his window. He'd been enjoying the gorgeous views of the front range of the Rockies and realized they'd be at the mountain complex in another 10 to 15 minutes. He couldn't help thinking about the day he'd picked up the Colonel outside the detention center, and glanced at a relaxed O'Neill before resuming his own day dreaming.

_In the meeting at the Pentagon, Davis was present when the Colonel was told he would return to Washington DC when Senator Kinsey was well enough to leave the hospital. He remembered all too well an irate Colonel O'Neill when the Secretary of Defense told him the plan for the press conference, and Davis was only a little less incensed when the SecDef and the Air Force Chief of Staff patiently explained why it had to be that way._

_Davis remembered his own surprise when the two men explained, knowing that they could just order the Colonel and if he refused, they would have him back behind bars and facing charges. He remembered O'Neill's hardened face and especially his dark hooded eyes getting shades darker before he started pacing, and Davis wondered what the angry Colonel was thinking._

_The SecDef had simply sat down, inviting the Air Force Chief of Staff to have a cup of coffee with him. It dawned on Davis then that the two men sympathized with O'Neill and were giving him the time he needed to accept his fate. It worked too. He eventually stopped pacing and stood, stock straight and perfectly still in front of the lightly tinted window. Ordered by his superiors and helpless to change their minds about the Kinsey press conference, O'Neill stayed with his back turned just looking out the window._

_Several minutes later he was calmly resigned, agreeing to return to Washington, DC for the press conference, but tossing out a request of his own - he wanted to go home as soon as possible. Learning that no military flights were available until the next afternoon, he had asked for booking on a commercial flight. Davis had already told him that the Joint Chiefs and SecDef wouldn't authorize use of their planes, even though he had been framed, falsely accused and imprisoned for days. If the news hounds found out, it could possibly spark a scandal about misuse of government property and preferential treatment._

_Davis knew that practically everyone O'Neill came into contact with might recognize him, since a picture of him in uniform had been all over the news for days, and he silently wished for Supreme Commander Thor to just beam the Colonel up to his ship and take him home._

_O'Neill asked to fly commercial, explaining that except for his name, he hoped he might not be recognized if he wasn't in uniform. With the Pentagon paying he'd have to wear his uniform unless someone gave him an exception. And no uniform meant he could pay for the upgrade to first class. He wanted the leg room and also fewer people would have a chance to scrutinize him._

_O'Neill also theorized that it would be even better if he departed from Baltimore-Washington International Airport (BWI) instead of Reagan National or Washington Dulles. They'd still have his name on the ticket and boarding pass, but once he got past security nobody would have to know his name at all. And he'd use his Colorado driver's license instead of his military ID so they might not realize he was in the service._

_TPTB accepted and approved O'Neill's requests, sending an aide to make the arrangements immediately. Then they directed Davis to arrange for a car and accompany him to the airport. While the Colonel changed out of his uniform, they went one better by notifying the airline ahead of time about their VIP passenger to try to protect his privacy as much as possible._

_The airline and airports were more than happy to help. BWI security would be aware of his arrival and an airline representative would meet him at the security gate and escort him to a private lounge area where he would wait to board. Hopefully that would keep anyone who recognized him from bothering him. At Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport he'd be met by airport and airline reps when he disembarked and hustled away for privacy while waiting for his connecting flight. When his plane __landed in Denver, he would__ be met at the gate by someone in an electric car and whisked from the concourse to an exit where a car and driver would be waiting to take him to Colorado Springs. The 85 mile drive would take less time than making O'Neill wait for another connecting flight._

_The account of the shooting with Kinsey's alleged death and O'Neill's arrest hadn't been above-the-fold front page news for a couple of days, but other related stories took its place. After that the news wasn't spicy enough since it could be a year or more before he went on trial, so when the relentless media couldn't get anymore information from the Pentagon or the local police information office, they dug into O'Neill's private life, which was a matter of whatever public record they could find._

_And of course in a back issue of the Colorado Springs Gazette they found a small notice about the accidental shooting of a child. Davis knew O'Neill would want some personal time, but the first thing was to get him home, and he was willing to do almost anything to accomplish it. Luckily he had the help and blessing of the SecDef and the AF Chief._

_Davis was in the sedan when it picked up the Colonel outside the Pentagon for the drive to the airport. __O'Neill was dressed __in the__civilian clothes that Hammond had insisted Davis take to DC with him, and carried a garment bag containing his uniform, service cap and dress shoes, which had been dispatched to DC for any court appearances. He had no other luggage or personal items. The Major handed him a Cubs hat, donated by the SecDef and O'Neill mumbled his thanks with a small smile when he put it on __his head, obviously hopeful it provided enough of a disguise._

_The drive on 295* was quiet with both men just looking out the window while the airman did the driving. About halfway through the 50 minute trip to Baltimore, Davis mentally reviewed his orders: get O'Neill to the airport, warn him about BWI security, tell him about the airline representatives at all three airports, tell him about the car at the Denver Airport and don't ask him any questions._

_After telling the Colonel everything he was supposed to, Davis shut up. The man had listened and accepted the plans for his privacy and safety without a single comment. They traveled for a while and surprisingly it was O'Neill who interrupted the relative quiet by thanking Davis for coordinating the cleanup at both his homes and retrieving his truck. Actually it wasn't so much surprise as shock. Davis believed it was the least he could do and hadn't known that O'Neill even knew about it. He wondered who had told him._

_With the FBI, state patrol and local law enforcement cooperating with each other, the searches had been thorough. In addition to strewing items from one end of the residences to the other in a malicious fashion, the searchers had broken __locks on doors at both places, and had left the refrigerator doors open at the Colorado Springs house. Everything except mustard, bottled beer, canned soda and a pack of AA batteries had been thrown out. O'Neill's truck had been towed away from the Cheyenne parking lot and turned over for evidence collection, before being placed in storage. The daily fees were racking up before Davis got a writ allowing its release and had it taken back to O'Neill's Colorado Springs home and placed in the garage for safekeeping._

_After mumbling 'you're welcome, I was glad to do it' __and telling him that the local sheriff had arranged for periodic patrols by the house, Davis launched into an impassioned apology about his own doubts regarding the man's innocence. He explained that he didn't want to believe it, but facts were facts... or so he believed at the time._

_He kept jabbering until he saw a smile, a small, but genuine smile on O'Neill's face, which contrasted with the strain reflected from his many days of incarceration. He stopped speaking in mid-sentence and nervously waited, not having any idea what to expect next from the exhausted man sitting next to him._

_Davis didn't have to wonder long because the Colonel took the high road and told him not to worry about it, that with the evidence it was easy to come to the wrong conclusion and there was nothing to forgive. O'Neill explained further that while D__avis had stayed out of the investigation, he had helped in other ways, important ways and after the clean-up had returned to DC where he had continued to help._

Even now, all these years later, Davis wasn't sure how or exactly when O'Neill had found out about the clean-ups and the truck storage and everything else. The man had been in jail with limited communication, yet he had known things, and to this day Davis was in the dark about it. He had wanted to ask him, get him to answer specific questions about that time, but the man was a senior officer, and Davis knew it was out of line for him to ask. He also knew O'Neill would never volunteer the information, and it was best just to accept that O'Neill had unknown connections, and unknown ways of communicating with those connections, even while he was incarcerated.

_After learning about the theft of the mimic devices, Davis c__hanged his mind about the Colonel. Upon returning to DC, Davis visited the man again and remembered cringing a little when he noticed that orange was a good color for O'Neill - though __burnt orange would have been a better choice than the bright orange he wore._

_They didn't talk about much at all. It was just a show of support because nobody else in DC who knew the Colonel would go to see him. He was the guilty-before-being-proven-innocent accused murderer of a __United States Senator, and they all had careers to protect. While most didn't know anything about his history with Kinsey, they did know the former Special Forces Officer was more than capable of taking and making a kill shot like the one that ended the Senator's life. When everybody thought he was dead._

_If anybody really thought about O'Neill as a killer though, they should have considered that he would most probably have taken a head shot which more than likely would be fatal. Many military snipers make a__kill with one bullet to the head of their mark, or one to the heart if the person is not wearing protection. They don't always take a second shot, but when they do, it would be a double tap – head and heart or two in the chest._

_Those that knew O'Neill didn't believe him to be a murderer - especially a stupid one. He would have suspected that Kinsey would wear a vest so a head shot made more sense. And they knew he would have used military issue armor piercing ammunition anyway, where a vest would not have protected Kinsey at all. He would never have been caught on camera and the weapon would have never been found, especially not at his cabin when he had a dumping ground over a 1000 __miles long. He wouldn't have purchased it where he could be identified and the list__ of reasons why it wasn't O'Neill who shot the Senator went on and on and on. Unfortunately it was a good enough frame to keep him locked up._

_Davis arranged for funds to be deposited in a canteen account so O'Neill could get a daily newspaper and he notified his superior at the pentagon following the visit. He'd seen the facial bruises and scrapes and knew the Colonel had been in an altercation or two, but it was the way the man gingerly sat and how long it took him to stand up that raised the biggest red flag. When Davis had seen the exaggerated limp he'd known O'Neill had been hurt._

_He'd asked the Colonel about it, but the man had j__ust waved him off, trying to assure him that it was incidental and nothing permanent. The Major had noticed the smirk on the face of the guard standing closest to their table and knew the man had overheard the question and the response. That told him they knew all about it, had done nothing to stop it and were perhaps participating.__The Major knew O'Neill would have endured everything they threw at him, quite possibly without fighting back, just to increase the probability of him ever being free again._

_He might have been innocent of the Kinsey related charges, but they'd have thrown the book at him for other offenses like assault, especially since getting anyone to vouch for it being self-defense might have been impossible. Plus if the Colonel had gotten caught up in an altercation where his life was truly threatened, he might have needed to use sufficient force to save his own skin. Davis knew O'Neill didn't want to hurt anyone, so he hadn't left it alone, and on his way out of the detention center he had t__old a supervisor, who had just rolled his eyes._

_After the Major had t__old someone at the Pentagon, calls were discreetly made because nobody wanted Kinsey's killer being killed himself, at least not before the trial, and a guilty verdict. O'Neill had been immediately removed from the general population pod and placed in isolated protective custody, where as a high profile prisoner, technically a detainee, he was supposed to have been in the first place. O__'Neill had been grateful for the Major's support and intervention, and had let him know it. They both knew he might have been hurt a lot worse if left in general population._

Jack noticed Davis discreetly watching him and got the funny feeling that they were thinking about the same thing. Thinking about it was bad enough. He sure didn't want to talk about it, so he tried to give the Major a look that said as much, and it must have worked because the officer pursed his lips into a half smile and turned his head to look out the car window. O'Neill started thinking about when he learned of the major's doubts regarding his innocence.

_He'd been utterly exhausted. The stress of being falsely accused and charged, as well as being incarcerated had been getting to him, not to mention sleeping lousy or not enough. __When it was __learned Kinsey wasn't dead, the charges were amended to attempted murder along with conspiracy, possession of an unregistered firearm and tampering with evidence. The DA was ready to throw the book at him and even included the lesser charges of breaking and entering__**,**__ for jimmying the lock on the door to the roof, and trespassing for being there._

_After the conspiracy was revealed and the heinous plot exposed, the Pentagon still had to spin it to the locals and the FBI, and there were many who still refused to believe O'Neill wasn't the shooter. He was seen on the video and the tape had not been tampered with, so convincing them to back off took a directive from the White House. Senator Kinsey waking from his coma helped, since he was one of the first on board with the fabricated story which included fabricated evidence against O'Neill._

_The man had been wearing a protective vest and while the bullet had not penetrated his chest cavity, it did damage the underlying muscle as well as cause severe bruising of his sternum resulting in excruciating pain. Because he was a Senator with excellent health care insurance and not a young man, and because he really wondered if someone was still out to get him, he remained hospitalized for another ten days with the doctors saying it was to make sure he didn't develop a heart arrhythmia or a blood clot._

_With Kinsey still in the hospital, all the charges had been dropped and Jack was eventually released from custody. He remembered being dog-tired. Arrested and held without bail for first degree murder and a boatload of other charges, he was left to survive on his own in a system that isn't sympathetic to the accused. Now that it was over he sure didn't want to talk about it._

_After the lengthy meeting at the Pentagon, Jack had been grateful to be going home on his own terms and it was even okay that Major Davis went with him to the airport. Little had been said about his incarceration. Davis had apologized and gotten some of his guilt off his chest, and Jack had thanked him for all he had done, which was a lot and he had made sure the Major knew it._

_The rest of the trip to the airport had been spent in silence with both men looking out the car windows while the airman navigated through the heavy traffic like an experienced cab driver. They had arrived at BWI, and after pulling up to the outgoing flights drop-off curb, he had said a quick thanks and good-bye. Before he could depart however, Davis jumped out of the car offering him a handshake and a small smile. Their interactions since that time had been very cordial with mutual respect._

_The trip home went off without a hitch, including not one person asking him anything except standard post 9/11 security questions. The airport personnel obviously knew who he was, but they all acted very professionally and left him alone unless he wanted something. Arriving at DIA*, he'd known to expect a car and driver, but after thanking the driver of the electric car and heading through the automatic door to the outside, Jack saw something that pulled at his heart strings. There waiting for him in the pickup lane was General George Hammond. No airman to drive an AF sedan, in fact no AF car at all. Just his friend and CO standing next to his own slightly faded victory red Impala._

_They had spoken just a little about his time in jail, the flights home, and the looming press conference, but mostly they had talked about Hammond's granddaughters, SG-1, Doctor Fraiser, and even Agent Barrett, who had helped get the evidence to clear him, and about the plan for the next week to ten days. Instead of taking him to his house in Colorado Springs, Hammond had driven him to his own home, explaining that there were still a few reporters hanging around, and that his refrigerator was basically __empty. Jack had opened his mouth intending to protest, but the truth was he hadn't minded, hadn't minded at all, because he knew it was his friend's way of making sure he was really okay._

_In the guest room he found his own toiletries, several days clothes and even his comfy bed pillow stuffed into a blue D'OH!* pillow sham. On the nightstand was a picture of Sara and Charlie. __And so he had stayed with Hammond, __enjoying privacy when he wanted it, companionship when he needed it, and relative silence when he craved it. No slamming metal doors or loud PA announcements, no screaming, no yelling and no cursing, but best of all, no fear. Being locked up invoke__d __all kinds of __memories and feelings, each one summoned by nothing more than fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the known learned through experience, fear of the possible, expressed by others through threats or threatening behavior, and finally fear of spending the rest of your life in a 7' by 9' cell, if you were lucky enough to get one that big. Jack had struggled to keep his temper and emotions in check, at times physically restraining one hand with the other to keep from striking out when another detainee attacked him or a guard struck him. Fear of being locked away for life was far more terrifying than the fear of being seriously hurt._

_For the next two days he had played with Kayla and Tessa, listened to music, read, rested and relaxed. He had caught up on his sleep, played chess with his friend and by himself, watched a little TV and a couple of movies, and when it got dark, he had looked__ to the sky __and watched the stars, with only the crickets to bother him._

_He'd been on the phone with his team, and enjoyed the cryptic way they had explained what had happened. He had been especially interested in the guy Teal'c and Jonas had nabbed, and where off world he would be going. Jack had expressed definite ideas about where to send him and none of the locations had comfy accommodations. And he knew that the next time he saw Agent Barrett, he would have to thank him for assisting Carter, leaving out that he wasn't happy with him for concealing the fact that Kinsey wasn't dead._

_On the second day, Sara had come over and they had enjoyed lunch next to the lake while Hammond went into the SGC. They'd been able to talk and he had been happy to see for himself that she was okay. Sara had dodged reporters since the story broke about Jack's arrest, and his CO had helped keep her and her dad safe, and secluded - away from reporters and curious onlookers._

_Hammond had protected her when Jack couldn't do it himself, and it meant more to him than he could ever put into words. His CO and friend had been amazing. Risking his own career, Hammond had taken it upon himself to lead a separate investigation of the Kinsey shooting, and in doing so, he'd saved Jack's life by restoring his freedom._

Thinking about lives that had been saved, a memory of a correspondence he had received a month after he was released from custody, suddenly flashed into his brain. He'd met Jason Levinson when the man's son was a member of a cult in Washington State. SG-1 had gone there to track down a missing Goa'uld an d had found a father wanting to help them so he could rescue his son.

Carter had killed Seth, lots of kids had been reunited with parents and loved ones, the ATF* had gotten all the credit for stopping the cult and getting the guns, and everybody had gone home happy. The cover story still remained miraculously intact, and Jack hadn't thought anything else about it until the day he'd opened that letter. The envelope was addressed to Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force, Pentagon, Washington, DC 20330. It had been opened, inspected and rerouted a couple of times before reaching him at Cheyenne Mountain, and the simple message still made him smile.

Dear Colonel O'Neill,

I saw your arrest on the news and Senator Kinsey's press conference where he told everyone what supposedly happened. Nobody had to tell me that you didn't shoot him and I'm sure we will never know what it was really all about. You'll always be a hero to me and my family, and we won't ever be able to repay you for what you did in the summer of 1999. Please contact me if you ever need anything.

God bless you,

Jason Levinson

PS: Because of you, Tommy will graduate from college in May. Thanks again.

Jack had never shared that letter with the rest of SG-1 because they weren't even mentioned, and he was a little embarrassed by the special attention. He wasn't a hero and he certainly hadn't acted alone. The team along with Jacob Carter, Selmac and even the ATF guys saved Tommy Levinson and the rest of the kids. O'Neill remembered talking to Hammond about it, and together they'd decided it was not inappropriate for them to do a little research and find out more about Jason and Tom Levinson. In the end, the young man was awarded a grant to continue school to earn his master's degree, and was now employed by the Air Force as a civilian in one of their applied research facilities. The young man was indirectly working with alien technology and didn't even know. To Jack, that was a good thing.

He saw the curve up ahead and knew that in about seven minutes he would be able to get out of the car, and away from the two men who had provoked the memories and feelings that he'd put to bed long ago. The others in the car might think he'd wigged out or something, staring into space like a zombie, so he shook off the past, rubbing his neck and thinking how good it would be to see Hank Landry.

Davis glanced at O'Neill and saw him reach up with his right hand to rub the back of his neck before tugging gently at his stiff shirt collar that maybe had just a little too much starch. The Major pulled gently on his own uniform jacket, regretting not taking it off, or at least sitting firmly on the tail to keep it from riding up.

The Peterson Base Commander was glad they were almost to the mountain complex. He hadn't gotten to ride with the President, the SecDef or the Air Force Chief of Staff, and he wanted to make sure he put himself in position for a conversation with one or all three of the men. It was on his list of things to do before he retired.

TBC

*115 - Colorado State Highway 115, also known as the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Highway

*Meth, short for _Methamphetamine, _a highly addictive central nervous system stimulant that can be injected, smoked, snorted or taken by mouth.

*295 (Maryland Highway) – Baltimore-Washington Parkway, aka B-W Parkway,

*DIA -Denver International Airport

*ATF - Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives

*D'OH! - Homer catch phrase from the TV show 'The Simpsons'

* * *

Reviews and emails with suggestions, advice, corrections and all kinds of feedback are all very much appreciated, and I try to respond to each one. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to Zeilfanaat. Because of her this chapter is so much better. As always, anything inaccurate, wrong or screwed up is my fault. And I own nothing. I created a few characters and named them. Any similarity to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

For this story, Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell was not awarded the Medal of Honor* for the Antarctic battle or any other situation. I have very definite opinions about this and believe the writers made a huge error when they wrote it the way they did. I'm sorry if this offends Cam fans, but c'mon, it's just a story and we can debate about it some day.

* * *

Previously in chapter 7 - The Presidential motorcade is almost to the mountain complex. Carter and Mitchell are at NORAD.

**Chapter 8**

"Hey Teal'c," Daniel Jackson addressed his teammate and friend as he walked across the office and stood next to the desk.

"Have you heard anything.... about anything," he finished, not even wondering if the man would understand what he meant.

Teal'c understood completely what Daniel Jackson was asking. At least he thought he did. "I have not," he replied just as Vala came skipping around the door frame.

The two men might have been able to hide the amusement from their faces, but couldn't hide anything from their eyes. And Daniel couldn't hide anything at all for long. In just a second he was smiling, then grinning and in another five seconds he was laughing out loud at the dark haired female member of SG-1.

When Daniel regained control he had to ask, "Vala, you aren't seriously going to wear _that_, are you?"

Even Teal'c, the ever stoic Jaffa looked amused. Vala was wearing the skin tight, low cut, body hugging black leather looking outfit she'd been wearing when she'd first come through the gate more than a year ago.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Most men around here seem to really like it." She was trying for honest naivety, but her eyes danced wildly when her hand went to her hip in a cover girl pose.

Daniel shook his head in wonderment, but before he could say anything else Vala was gone.

"She's going to go change, isn't she," he asked Teal'c with more hope in his voice than he was actually feeling. "Please tell me she's going to go put on something else."

Teal'c couldn't keep the small smile from gracing his lips, but he didn't confirm or deny. Vala rarely conformed or did what was expected or desired.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Daniel admitted to himself as much as to Teal'c. Both men knew it was possible for Vala to dress in something even more provocative.

*~*~*~*~*

Everything was ready in the meeting hall as the assembled men and women waited for the President to arrive. The crowd was a little noisy, but respectful and got noticeably quieter when someone tapped the microphone on the lectern. Looking toward the stage, Carter and Mitchell listened when he said, "The President's motorcade will be here momentarily. Please take the next few minutes to complete your ablutions," he paused as the crowd murmured in obvious humor, "and get back to take your seats. We don't want any interruptions or distractions with people walking around during the speeches and presentations. Thank you."

He didn't tell them that the caravan was only halfway up the mountain road. They didn't need to know that, because too many of them would think they had all the time in the world for a restroom break. Several people headed for the facilities, but most stayed where they were.

Mitchell looked at his watch. "Pretty close to on time."

"He still has to get through the receiving line," Carter provided. "Did you see the list of attendees?"

"No, but I heard it's a who's who of people in the Air Force and in Colorado politics. I'm just hoping the speeches aren't too long," he paused before stressing, "or too boring."

Carter smiled and adjusted her skirt, tugging it gently down closer to her knees. Several men and women in uniform filed in, taking seats on folding chairs in front of them. Two of the men looked long and hard at Carter's and Mitchell's ribbon racks before turning to take their seats. It happened a lot upstairs in the mountain complex where people were noticeably curious about what Deep Space Radar Telemetry personnel did to be awarded commendations like the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Airman's Medal, the Purple Heart and the Air Medal. Most of the NORAD folks had lots of medals too, but the majority were not ones awarded for voluntary risk of life.

Mitchell discreetly checked out the ribbons on the Colonel sitting down from Carter and was a little surprised when he saw both the Iraq and Afghanistan campaign medals on the man's ribbon rack. Many SGC personnel didn't have either one. It briefly saddened him that there would probably never be a medal designating the SGC and the campaigns against the Goa'uld and the Ori, and the numerous other bad guys out there. Secrecy had its price. Even the battle with Anubis had been covered up as being the result of a meteor shower, and as heroic as SG-1, the 302 pilots and the Prometheous crew had been, there hadn't been any medals presented to any of them. A few medals were awarded posthumously to the men and women serving in the battle group that was lost, but the public and families might never know that it was actually Anubis who had killed them all.

Everyone sat in silence for a couple of minutes just watching all that was going on around them until Mitchell couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"What was Jackson going to do while we're gone?"

Carefully keeping her voice low, Carter replied, "I'm not sure. He might just get ready and then wait around with Teal'c and Vala."

Remembering his earlier conversation with Jackson, Mitchell confided in Carter. "I got a little peeved at him earlier, in the commissary. Sometimes his civilian attitude just bites, ya know?"

Carter chuckled softly, but didn't respond. She'd had many more years with Daniel than Cam.

Mitchell smoothed his coat and turned a little in his seat. The chairs all around them were occupied now and he noticed a few people heading toward the seats set up along the side. He couldn't help stating the obvious. "Looks like it's going to be a full house."

"Yeah, even an Army General is here," Carter pointed out, discreetly gesturing toward the side of the stage designated for VIPs.

"What's up with that?" He didn't wait for her response before asking another question. "Hey, isn't that the Academy Dean of Faculty with him?"

Carter looked where she'd seen the general and Mitchell was right, there was a woman sitting with him. "It looks like her. I wonder where the superintendent and commander are?"

"Oh, don't worry Sam, you know they'll be here." His tone was sarcastic, and she nodded agreement with him just as the public affairs liaison once again went to the podium.

Tap, tap and then, "Please take your seats. We'll be getting started momentarily."

The Presidential motorcade must have arrived, or was very close, and everyone started moving to get settled. It wouldn't be long now.

*~*~*~*~*

Winding along the mountain road, the motorcade passed several vehicles with Air Force personnel in them, while other airmen stood at the alert looking for any sign of trouble. In addition to being armed, the men had radios and binoculars, and for every man seen there were probably at least 20 more that weren't visible.

O'Neill thought back to the early years of the program and the arguments with the Joint Chiefs and Pentagon officials over uniforms, and how he and Hammond had finally figured out how to get around and under and through and over the red tape. Being a unique command meant having unique needs, and those needs included BDUs, ABUs, ACUs and DCUs from all service branches to properly outfit the SG teams going off world. The new Air Force ABU ragged edge pattern was fine if you didn't care about being seen.

Deep Space Radar Telemetry was not listed on any bean counter's ledger as a program needing anything combat related, so even getting solid colored BDUs and ABUs was a challenge, and getting anything camouflage was nearly impossible. To make matters even more curious, Hammond and O'Neill regularly requested uniforms in camouflage patterns used by the Marine and the Army.

Apparently 97% of AF personnel didn't need a battle uniform, let alone a camouflage one. TPTB decided airmen needed a barracks utility uniform**, and being Air Force, it of course had to have a lot of blue in the color pattern to go with gray, green and tan. Blue is not a color normally found very much in nature, except for the sky of course, so SG teams needed other camouflage patterns such as desert, woodland, jungle, tiger and many different solid colored uniforms too.

Finally one day the idea just came to them. Enlisting help from base commanders in Colorado, New Mexico, Kansas, Wyoming and Arizona, along with a few of Hammond's contacts, SGC combat supplies were divided for delivery so that they didn't look like they were all going to the mountain complex. The plan worked so well that they were soon receiving deliveries of boots, vests, weapons, ammunition and all things combat related, through their friends at the other bases.

With their delivery options in place, O'Neill had then pushed for equipment utilizing special operations technology, tactical gear, and items specific to search & rescue, emergency & disaster preparedness, and additional choices for field & survival items. It wasn't long before SGC stores stocked everything from MREs, power bars and water purification tablets to climbing and rappelling equipment to first aid, medical trauma and field surgical kits. And of course weapons, lots of weapons. All kinds of weapons.

Obtaining and stockpiling what they needed in the armories was another logistical nightmare for the senior officers of a non-combat base, where supposedly only telescopes were required, not guns. For the last few years, the Joint Chiefs had greased the wheels, and delivery was not the big problem it once had been. The supplies were still sent to other bases first, but they made it to the mountain complex a lot faster and with remarkably fewer questions.

Jack was lost in thought when he noticed the change in the speed of the car. The glass panel separating the compartments opened. The limo slowed and they went by more vehicles with the personnel standing at attention and saluting. They continued moving because obviously the President's motorcade would not be stopped for ID checks of occupants, and they passed a checkpoint.

Through the car's tinted windows, the lights of the police escorts were seen moving away in the opposite direction. Next they saw the ambulances, rescue squads and the rest of the motorcycle officers. The President traveled with the secret service and Cheyenne Mountain had some of the best security in the world so local cops were unnecessary. That and they didn't have clearance.

This wasn't a trip to a school or a fund raiser in downtown Colorado Springs. This was a military operation and they would take care of their Commander-in-Chief. Fed trumped local every time, and another fully armed military escort vehicle pulled alongside the motorcade.

Jack's car rolled past some more SFs standing at attention. The front passenger window was down about an inch and through the still open interior panel Jack heard a male voice from outside the car announce, "Beta check point secure, traveler coming through, over," before the window was closed.

The north portal entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex was secured. Everything felt strange and yet so familiar to Jack and he started wondering how Hammond was feeling, remembering part of their conversation from two nights ago.

"_I haven't been back since the Ori plague," Hammond reminded O'Neill. "And I felt a little like an outsider then."_

"_Yeah, I mostly feel that way too," O'Neill confided to his friend. "It's not Hank, it's just so many new faces. And they get so serious when they see the stars."_

_Hammond chuckled, remembering the reactions from SGC personnel when they'd seen him in a business suit instead of an Air Force uniform. Smiling he confided to his friend, "The people who didn't know me seemed to think I was from the IOA."_

_Jack roared and passed his former CO another beer. "You sure you don't want to come back when Carter tells the President all about her two weeks in the other..." He gestured with his hands. Then raising his eyebrows and quirking his mouth he said, "alternate reality... parallel universe... other dimension... multi-verse.... out of phase... place, where Hank was President?"_

_Hammond just shook his head slowly, both at the idea of this reality's Hank Landry ever pursuing a political career and at Jack's description. The idea that the United States could be under martial law for three years was incredulous. He just couldn't get his head around ordinary people putting up with it for three years and believed that it couldn't happen that way in this reality... this universe... this... aw hell, maybe Jack's description was about right._

"_Did Colonel Carter ever tell you where you were in the other..... place?"_

"_Nope, but I'm guessing dead... or in prison. The President promised to tell me what she tells him," Jack smugly replied before quickly adding, "Don't tell her that."_

_They both chuckled knowingly and then Jack steered the conversation away from himself. "The other you was a two star with apparently no hope for retirement."_

"_Yeah." Hammond gazed thoughtfully at his friend, took a sip of his beer and confidently admitted, "I definitely like this reality better."_

The motorcade passed rows and rows of cars until finally the razor wire topped triple security fence loomed ahead, and suddenly the tunnel mouth was visible. The cars sped through the open chain link gate with hardly a sound, and all except one of the military vehicles turned off as the limos, sedans and SUVs pulled ahead toward the mountain entrance. The interior light faded slightly as Jack's car slipped into the tunnel's semi darkness. Only about a third of a mile to go now and he lifted his service cap from the seat, ready to place it on his head when the car eased to a stop. Davis and the Peterson Commander were doing the same and suddenly they stopped, and outside the cars men and women in uniform waited for their charges to emerge from the different vehicles.

Major Paul Davis looked at O'Neill saying, "Nice flight and a nice ride, General."

O'Neill couldn't help himself, it was too easy. "Oh yeah, don't you just love public transportation," referring to both the plane and the limo.

Both men shared a smile, perhaps remembering the quote from the movie 'In the Line of Fire***'. Jack sighed when he saw the outline of a uniformed person through the tinted window and heard the latch release just as he felt the door next to him swing open.

"General O'Neill, sir, welcome back to Cheyenne Mountain."

The SF stood at attention with a picture perfect salute while Jack half-turned, slid from the car and placed his cover on his head in one smooth and practiced motion. Standing up he returned the salute and watched the blush on the cheeks of the young airman. Welcome back was good; that meant the kid knew he'd been here before. He didn't recognize the young man, but did see several other familiar faces among the honor guard several yards away.

All the car doors were open, with the President, SecDef, Generals Mantley and Hammond and the Academy contingent being greeted by a NORAD and civilian delegation. Jack realized he was quite a bit closer to the main entrance and would get in first which suited him just fine. Then it dawned on him. The limo change might have been to keep him from getting caught up in the meet and greet. It wouldn't have looked good for him to walk away from the VIPs and NORAD commanders waiting to greet visitors at the mountain complex.

The Peterson Brigadier General emerged from the car and did a fair bit of looking around before returning his escort's salute. Jack had to give the kid credit for remaining patiently at attention while he waited for the General, who actually looked a little put out until the airman started guiding him toward the small crowd. O'Neill could see the Secretary of the Air Force, the Governor of Colorado, the Mayor of Colorado Springs and a couple of others in fancy suits enthusiastically stepping up to greet all the VIPs. Hammond was smiling and Jack could swear the man was enjoying the rock star treatment. Mantley glanced over and as their eyes met, Jack hoped his expressed the gratitude he felt for not having to attend the NORAD gig. When Mantley gave him a barely visible head nod, Jack knew his message had been received.

"This way, sir, to the security desk," O'Neill's escort directed him, becoming his instant shadow.

Polite, respectful, not loud or pushy, but he knew it was his job to get Jack inside and he was going to get it done. The kid went on to tell him that his bag would be delivered after the security search, but Jack already knew that. Nothing got in without being checked. Davis was a few yards behind and coming up fast was O'Neill's security detail. Jack removed his cover as the young escort directed him inside and over to the primary sign-in checkpoint. The airman behind the counter straightened to attention, looked at Jack, glanced at his shoulders and pushed the clipboard over to him.

Sounding bored out of his skull, the man stated, "Sign in next to your printed name, and I need your ID… sir."

The sir was definitely delayed and while Jack didn't mind, he wondered if the man would get it in gear with Mantley right behind him. Jack was a two star, just wait until the kid saw four stars. He passed his ID to the young man, who pulled up information on the computer. Jack was in the computer and with the palm scan could have gained access a lot quicker, but he just went along. After signing the paper register, he scribbled his name on the computer screen with the plastic stylus and the airman handed back his ID. This time there was a small smile and a very deliberate "Thank you, sir."

Another SF approached and almost ashamedly announced that the General's person and case had to be swept with the security wand. Jack handed over the case and service cap to an SF and then stood tall, arms out and away from his sides with his feet apart as the kid drew the device over his body.

An SF politely asked, "Has your case been out of your possession, Sir?"

"Not since Air Force One."

Before 9/11 a General's briefcase wouldn't be checked, but times had changed. Now there were procedures, necessary procedures and everybody had to abide by the rules. Jack understood. And he agreed. In fact he either implemented or reviewed most of SGC security procedures. The SF handing back his case and cover announced that his flight bag would be delivered to his guest quarters and then said, "This way to the NORAD party, sir."

Before O'Neill could respond, Major Davis was right there, having just completed the wand sweep.

He respectfully asked, "Mind if I walk with you, General?"

"Not at all," O'Neill replied, glancing at his security detail walking quickly toward him. And then in a softer tone he added, "if you're heading down."

Everyone except Jack and his first SF escort looked surprised and Davis didn't speak before O'Neill pointed out, "I take it you didn't get a hall pass from the President?"

Davis laughed, shaking his head. "No sir, I'm expected to be at the party. I take it you're not?"

"That is correct, Major Davis. Have fun - I hear they have cake," he joked and briskly headed toward the elevator with his escort and two bewildered tag-alongs scurrying behind.

O'Neill stopped abruptly and the two men caught up, not noticing the SFs coming after them.

"You two need to sign in," O'Neill told his security detail, half pointing his index finger in their direction where SFs were already surrounding the two men.

"When you finish, you can either go to the anniversary party or," and he turned to one of the escorts with an unspoken order, "you can hole up in a nice office somewhere. I'll call you if I need you."

"But General O'Neill, we're supposed to stay with you," one of them implored.

"You're doing a fine job too." And with that Jack headed for the elevator while the two men were herded back to the security checkpoint. An SF at the elevator door swiped his card in the reader and anticipating what his escort was going to say, O'Neill turned quickly and spoke first.

"I know the way," he announced as the door opened and he walked through. Then facing the young man he said, "I'll tell General Landry how much help you've been." He smiled as the doors slowly started to close over the look of dread and uncertainty on the man's face when he apparently comprehended the comment and what had just happened. It was the SF's job to escort him to General Landry's office and that wasn't going to happen. When the elevator doors eased together and were almost closed, the bewildered SF whispered, "Oh shit."

TBC

*Medal of Honor – awarded by the President, in the name of Congress, to a person who, while a member of the Armed Forces, distinguishes himself or herself conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his or her life above and beyond the call of duty.... etc. Want to see and/or read about the medal? Go to my profile page for an address.

**Want to read about the Air Force uniform project? Address on my profile page.

ABU - Airman battle uniform/ DCU - desert combat uniform/ BDU - battle dress uniform/ ACU - Army combat uniform. Various colors and camouflage patterns worn by Air Force, Marine and Army personnel - olive drab, tan, black, jungle blue, desert camo, tri-color desert, woodland, tiger stripe, desert tiger stripe (this is not a complete list I'm sure, but just an example of what's out there. Want to know more about camouflage uniforms? Yep, find an address on my profile page.

*** In The Line Of Fire - movie with Clint Eastwood playing a secret service agent

* * *

I wasn't sure about when to use a key card in the SGC elevator and when not to, so I wrote it the way I wanted. Thanks very much to everyone who has reviewed and/or sent me email. Also to those of you still reading. And as always, suggestions, advice, corrections and feedback of all kinds in all forms are welcome and appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

I created and named some characters. Any similarity to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. The key card in the elevator process may or may not be accurate to the series. I own nothing Stargate.

Jack has another flashback in this chapter. It's in italics if you want to skip it.

* * *

Previously in chapter 8 - Jack smiled as the doors slowly started to close over the look of dread and uncertainty on the man's face when he apparently comprehended the comment, and understood what had happened. It was the SF's job to escort him to General Landry's office and that wasn't going to happen. When the elevator doors eased together the bewildered SF whispered, "Oh shit."

**Chapter 9**

Jack chuckled softly as the elevator slowly descended and it wasn't long before it was easing to a stop with only a slight jerk. The doors opened on the SGC security check-in level where half a dozen SFs stood at attention, and Jack's long stride took him quickly to the check point desk. He produced his ID, signed his name on the electronic pad with the stylus and was given a badge, all pretty much without comment, but as he made his way to the next elevator he heard whispering behind him.

The voice was shaky and sounded tentative. "This is Harper at the entry level security desk. A General O'Neill is here. He's on the list, but he's not escorted."

An SF was standing at attention next to the open elevator doors and he smiled just slightly as Jack approached. "Welcome back General O'Neill, it's good to see you," offered the young SF, his eyes quickly sweeping over the stars on O'Neill's shoulders and the ribbons on his chest in admiration. He waited until the General was in the elevator before reaching in to swipe his access card.

"Thanks Jorgenson," Jack responded, fully expecting the man to join him for the ride down. When he didn't, Jack raised his eyebrows and asked, "Not coming with?"

The smiling airman cheerfully quipped, "No sir," and stepped back to allow the door to close.

As soon as it did the desk clerk squeaked out, "You know him, don't you?"

The smiling SF nodded. "Sort of, I saw him a lot when he was base commander."

Relaxed against the elevator wall Jack was thinking about the SF he had just left. No explanations, no questions, just the very polite fresh faced airman who knew how to please an aging General. He remembered Jorgenson as a nice young man and he liked seeing a familiar face. Jack watched the numbers counting up as the car descended further into the mountain. To some it was weird to go up in number when going down, but to Jack it was normal.

The elevator stopped and the door slid open to reveal a young woman who snapped to attention, standing as tall as her 5'5" frame would allow, her head up, body stock straight and hazel eyes staring forward. O'Neill smiled as he recognized Sergeant April Adams and quickly waved her to ease before he stepped from the car.

"General O'Neill sir, it's very nice to see you sir."

Jack chuckled under his breath for the respect which was three times more than it needed to be. One general or one sir was all that was required, all that was necessary. Heck, among friends he didn't even want it, but like so many things that came with being a general, respect and acknowledgment of rank was right up there.

Stepping into the corridor he reciprocated. "It's good to see you too, Sergeant." The briefcase rocked gently in his hand. "How have you been?"

She knew the question was sincere because she'd been at the mountain since a few months before Anubis attacked. O'Neill might have been a senior officer, but he always treated the enlisted personnel and junior officers with respect. He wasn't demanding or rude, and openly acknowledged their skills and strengths. Also endearing him to the staff was that he expected the same from everyone in the command and was quick to discipline non-compliance.

"Just fine sir, thank you for asking."

Oh this was going to be a scintillating conversation. He knew she was being respectful and chit-chat was not part of the protocol when greeting a visitor to the mountain even if you knew him.

"Are you headed somewhere, Sergeant?" Jack tilted his head slightly.

"No sir… I mean yes sir… to find you, sir," she finally said then added, "I'm your escort, sir."

He smiled. "How did you know I'd come to 28 instead of 27?"

"I didn't, Sir. I was told to meet you on 28."

"Ah, so I'm guessing there might be someone waiting on 27 in case I went there?"

"Probably, Sir," she freely admitted, smiling slightly.

Moving his hand in a sweeping motion, Jack smiled and said, "Escort away, Sergeant."

"Yes sir." She returned the smile and then turned to lead him down the corridor.

The young sergeant walked at a brisk clip, but Jack's long legs still gave him plenty of time to easily keep pace. The SFs along the way straightened to attention as he went past, their clicking heels like a wave on the sound of scraping boots in the corridor. He noted wiped down doors, polished knobs and sparkling floors, making it clear that the staff had spent some time getting ready for their important visitors. He realized the place even smelled good as they entered the control room and went to the stairs. Jack glanced through the control room window into the gate room as he methodically climbed the stairs to the side and slightly behind the Sergeant. Everything looked shiny and clean and he was kind of glad the gate room wouldn't have any bunting and that it wouldn't be used for any of the scheduled events with the President.

In his office, Major General Hank Landry leaned back in his soft leather chair chewing on a bite of toasted blueberry bagel. He'd just completed a call from his north portal security contact who reported that the President was inside the mountain complex and that the complex doors were now sealed behind him.

Just before that he had fielded another call telling him that Jack O'Neill was on his way down without an escort, and he had quickly rung the duty desk to immediately arrange for one or two other escorts to intercept his friend. It wasn't much of a surprise for Jack to come down by himself. He heard footsteps in the hall outside his office and rose quickly to greet his friend with a big smile and a firm handshake.

"Jack, it's good to see you." Landry barely nodded to dismiss the sergeant, but she understood she was to leave and return to her duties.

"Good morning Hank." Jack half turned in time to see his impromptu escort before she walked away. He too gave her a head nod, but his was meant as a 'thank you'.

Hank smiled big and cheerfully asked, "How was the trip?" He refrained from saying 'spill', meaning he wanted details.

"It was pretty nice." Jack knew his response was evasive, he meant for it to be, and enjoyed the look on Landry's face for a couple of seconds before hitting on the bullet points for his friend. "Fancy plane, topnotch service, first class seating, all the amenities, nice limo, ample legroom, so basically lots of our tax dollars at work."

Both men laughed and Jack sat down, pulling a chair back from the desk and stretching out his long legs. He put the briefcase on the floor next to the chair before looking at Landry with knowing eyes. He couldn't help thinking about what he'd given up when he'd agreed to go to Washington, or about what Hank had agreed to when he'd learned about the Stargate and had accepted the new command. Now here they were, almost two years later. Neither Jack nor Hank took their service oath lightly. The men they had become were defined by that oath and their commitment to it. The Generals gazed at the other in a comfortable silence for just a moment. A chance to survey the face, the posture, the meaning behind the expression or smile, the moment of truth when each concluded that life was indeed good. It was busy, crazy, stressful and hard…but it was very, very good.

Landry eased himself down into his chair, leaning back to look once more at his friend, and predecessor. The man looked good. It had only been a few weeks, but he looked a little older and Hank also suspected Jack was a little wiser too. It came with the territory. O'Neill was always self confident, but Landry noticed conviction and determination that surpassed that. He knew his friend was a pistol, but he also knew him to be a thoughtful steely-eyed tactician who knew how to get things done while earning and keeping the respect of those around him. Hank believed it was no fluke that Jack was the President's choice. Sure, Hammond recommended him, but the President had had the final say. If he'd felt he'd made a mistake more than a year ago, he had the chance three weeks ago to cut his losses, but he hadn't. He not only kept Jack as head of Homeworld Security, but he promised him more support and Landry knew his friend would never understand that, for more reasons than either of them could count. Jack was fiercely loyal to those he believed in, but didn't seem to think that he deserved the same.

Landry started to take another bite of bagel before remembering his manners. "Oh hey, you want something? It's a while until the reception and even longer until lunch later on."

"Thanks, but no, I'm good. Had a big breakfast on the plane." O'Neill looked at his watch and said, "except it was a while ago. Still I think I'll wait, even for coffee."

Taking another bite, Landry asked, "How was the food on Air Force One?"

O'Neill smiled. "It was good. They said they could make us almost anything we wanted."

Landry looked envious, but had to know. "And what did you want?"

"Oh, you know me," he joked then added, "I didn't want anybody to go to too much trouble, so just had a burrito made with Southwestern Egg Beaters,* fresh salsa and bacon. And fresh squeezed OJ."

Jack smirked at the look on Landry's face and had to rub it in a little more. "And a nice big bowl of fresh grapes, berries and melon. And of course coffee."

"Of course," Hank mimed. With sad eyes and pathetic voice he asked, "What kind of berries?"

They talked for a few minutes about breakfast, the flight and limo ride before Jack casually asked, "Your people ready, Hank?"

"Yeah, I believe so. It's been hard with so many new people, and a few teams even tried to stay off world." All teams had been recalled for the official visit, but there was always someone who bucked.

"That's a crock. They know better than to think you wouldn't bring them back."

Jack rubbed his hand through his spiky silvery hair thinking how not so long ago he might have tried the same stunt. The difference being that only on a few occasions had he ever defied a direct order, and most of those times he felt justified and the reprimands even stated his position while at the same time condemning him. O'Neill had plenty of black marks in his service record, but he also had thirty times that number of citations and paperwork for commendations.

"I don't know what they were thinking, but everybody knew the deadlines and the restrictions. Still, we barely got the post mission checks done in time, and security is still sweeping levels 15 through 28 one last time. The President stays upstairs until we're finished, which hopefully will still keep us on time."

"I'm sure he won't mind. He's got his adoring public..." Jack chuckled. "And cake. You need any help?"

Smiling, Landry shook his head. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm just waiting for the last of the status reports, and of course so much will be sealed off anyway. Several levels are already barricaded. The challenge will be to contain all the extras."

"Guess I'm an extra." Jack's smile turned into a half smirk.

Landry chuckled. "You're a wandering General who needs a place to stay for a few days."

Jack had planned for base quarters for one night, and now it turned out to be the only night he would need a bed. "It won't be for that long, Hank. The President is picking me up on his way back from California. I have to go back to Washington."

Landry's jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly. "Dang Jack, good thing the barbecue is tomorrow or you would have missed it." O'Neill nodded knowingly.

Landry offered, "You can stay at my house tonight if you want."

"I appreciate the offer, Hank, but you won't be there." It was Landry's turn to nod knowingly since he knew Jack was right about both of them staying on the base for the night. The President would be leaving very late, and after he departed, maybe they could convince Teal'c to join them for gin rummy or poker.

"All the extras make this a logistical nightmare. Just because the secret service can guard the President doesn't mean they can see and hear everything that he can see and hear," Jack explained. "My staff took care of the clearance paperwork, but not many will ever get below sub level 10. Secret service is the exception, and even they don't approach the need to know requirement for the gate, so we've limited levels 25 and below to only 24 agents." He crossed his ankles, flexing his feet before adding, "Obviously someone at Treasury had to be informed about a few things after Anubis appeared in the oval office and then again when the Halcyon building just disappeared."

Landry half smiled and nodded his head. "Holograms look like threats, but beaming technology is a threat."

Jack nodded. "The good news is that the bad guys don't seem to want to take the President," and then smirking he added, "That fact both pleases him... and pisses him off."

Landry grinned in understanding before finishing his last bagel bite.

"Oh, and before I forget," Jack started, and Hank raised his eyebrows in anticipation. Jack noticed the man's expression and realized that he'd put him on alert unnecessarily. "My escort topside... nice kid... uh, Timmons... it wasn't his fault." Then he honestly admitted, "I practically pulled rank."

Landry smiled. "I figured, though I should have anticipated it." He knew O'Neill could be intimidating without ever opening his mouth.

"Yes, well." He could tell Hank understood that he'd not given the SF a choice, not really. Jack's gaze swept around the room, and bringing back the conversation he inquired, "Your newest computer guy, Guernsey, he working out okay?"

"Yeah, need him too. I lost Jameson and Kirkwood."

"What?" Jack had been looking down when reflex made him abruptly raise his head to stare at the serious look on Hank's face. He shook off the surprise enough to ask, "What the heck happened?" Jack was more than a little bit stunned by the unexpected news because neither man went off world. And two men from the same department going down right before the presidential visit was a bad thing...a very bad thing and suspicious too.

"Kirkwood fell off his roof. He's still in the hospital and doesn't remember a thing."

"Damn," was all O'Neill could think to say.

"Nobody knows why he was up there, not even his wife. She wasn't there at the time and there weren't any witnesses." Landry had a hard look. "She found him when she came home."

Major James Kirkwood had worked in computer security for over six years. Jack couldn't help wondering why he'd been on the roof since he vaguely remembered something about the man being a little afraid of heights.

Major William Jameson had come to Stargate Command a year after Kirkwood and both men were considered vital to the project. "What happened to Jameson?"

"Night before last he was on a jogging trail close to where he lives in Quail Cove. Two or three guys jumped him and beat him up pretty badly. Took his watch, house key and running shoes."

Jack's gut wrenched. Within thirty six hours prior to the President's arrival, Stargate Command had lost half of their senior computer security officers. "So what you're saying is that without Guernsey you're not adequately staffed."

"Pretty much. It gives new meaning to bad timing."

Jack hated that expression. "Let's hope that's all it is," he countered, not at all confident that it had anything to do with timing and he pondered the implications of what Hank had revealed. He didn't believe in coincidences, and Majors Jameson and Kirkwood both going down at the same time right before the official visit pegged the arrow on his internal don't-trust-anybody meter. It put the new man, Guernsey, third in the chain of command in charge of computer security. As the newest addition to the department he wasn't supposed to be in charge of making coffee, let alone anything else for at least another sixty days.

"I assume the advance team knows all this?" O'Neill already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, and they weren't happy. I'm glad Guernsey checked out, he hasn't been below 16," Landry revealed right before his phone rang.

Jack waited, using the time to think about Guernsey and others. A positive outcome to a security investigation was only part of vetting and he vowed to push for reform in the process.

When the call ended Landry told him, "Everything is sealed up tight, the celebration upstairs is going as planned, and your bag is in your quarters."

"Where are the wandering general quarters?" he asked, pulling up his knees to stand.

Landry rose from his chair also. "VIP of course, you really have to ask that?"

Straightening his jacket Jack quipped, "Oh c'mon Hank, I can take a bunk anywhere."

"Jack, you're a VIP on my base, and you'll sleep where I tell you."

O'Neill laughed aloud, and Landry grinned big before Jack got serious again.

"I read the security plan, but I'm sure you have updates. I'd like to see them... with the signature pages."

Landry smiled at O'Neill before reaching into his desk and pulling out a thick bound document.

"This is the latest revision with maps. As long as you're here now, let's go to the control room and get your access card and codes set up. Time might be tight later."

Jack thought about the two weeks of planning for the President's visit as he looked at Landry's back descending the stairs to the control room. The secret service advance team usually needed at least two weeks to do their thing and this short visit was no exception. Stargate Command was easier to secure in some ways, but harder in others and bringing everyone in from the field certainly made the day simpler for everyone. That and having a short staff for the day. Hank Landry needed his base secured and the appropriate people present during the President's stay, but he was not heartless, nor was he stupid. He knew that not everyone was on the same page politically with President Hayes, and he didn't need anyone or anything to upset the apple cart. So he'd allowed a few of the civilians who were not giving presentations to take the day off. This visit was important and he wasn't going to chance any of them being in a position where they could speak their mind. The military personnel would follow orders. They might not agree politically, but the man was their commander-in-chief. Landry was their commanding officer, and they would not embarrass him, themselves or the service.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel sighed in relief when Vala walked into his office. She'd changed into black slacks, an attractive black top and could have easily passed for someone quite conservative. Then destroying that illusion, she sauntered provocatively over to him and innocently asked, "Is my attire appropriate? Not too prim and proper?" She was carrying a little matching waist-length sequined jacket that he hadn't seen before.

"Very nice, Vala, much better," Daniel chuckled, wondering what DVD movie she'd been watching to come up with that question.

Vala leaned over and walked her fingers from his wrist to his shoulder and slowly back down again. She blew softly into his ear and Daniel's face blushed. With one hand on his shoulder and the other on his upper thigh she whispered, "Where's Muscles, Danny-Poo?"

"I am here, Vala Mal Doran."

Vala made an uncharacteristic soft squeaking sound and whipped around, her eyes darting to and fro looking for the owner of the deep voice she knew so well. She found Teal'c bathed in shadow, but completely visible when you looked for him or already knew he was there.

"Hello Muscles," she cooed in greeting, removing her hands and stepping away from Daniel. Arms above her head and twirling smoothly, she coyly inquired, "You like my outfit?"

"I do, Vala Mal Doran," he solemnly replied, a small smile gracing his lips. "Your ensemble is most becoming. Do you not agree... Danny-Poo?" Vala stopped spinning and with sparkling eyes gazed at her favorite linguist before turning to grin at Teal'c. If Daniel could have crawled under the desk he certainly would have, but instead he nodded once and smiled shyly while Vala and Teal'c shared a smug look.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

O'Neill sat in the empty control room as he waited for Landry to return. A telephone call had taken the other general back to his office as soon as they'd gotten downstairs, leaving Jack alone. For a minute he stood looking at the silent gate room, and then he had sat down, carefully easing his back into the chair and stretching out his legs.

Looking around the room his mind couldn't help but jump to the many memories of times spent there. Events flooded his consciousness and he grew just a little melancholy thinking about everything. The control room was deserted except for the SFs outside both doors. Landry had dismissed the techs to a break room down the corridor so he and O'Neill could have some privacy.

There wasn't anything gate related for any of them to do unless someone dialed in. Jack thought about that prospect and decided it was a remote possibility, but it could happen. Hopefully it wouldn't, but they were prepared just in case. O'Neill looked around the room, fixing his gaze on a darkened monitor. His mind rushed to Kirkwood and Jameson and the sudden need for Guernsey, and he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His gut was telling him that it was something bad, something sinister, something just not right, but what could it be?

Deciding to set aside his apprehension for the time being, O'Neill fixed his eyes on the computer system and controls. A few dimly lit lamps indicated the system was on standby - just waiting, and for some reason his brain started thinking about all the times something dramatic had happened in the gate room. From the first time Thor stepped from the wormhole, to the many rough ramp landings, his mind was a catalogue of good and bad gate room experiences. Remembering Thor got him thinking about the ancient downloads. Then his brain shifted to the Replicators, and he cringed thinking about that gate room experience. Not the one with the android Reese, or when an invasion force of bugs actually came through the gate and the base was so close to being destroyed. Those were battles to save the planet. The gate room memory his brain focused on was about a sinister faction of his own government and their drive for power and control.

_With weakening life signs, Jack was saved by Thor just in time to save the Asgard from the replicators, but he had mixed feelings about his and SG-1's eventual homecoming__**. **__Thor's ship left Earth's orbit immediately after transporting his unconscious body aboard, taken from the stasis pod without any warning or permission. The quick message from Thor to Stargate Command was short and simple - 'I have O'Neill and Dr Jackson' - and then the ship disappeared from orbit. He could only imagine the calls reporting his disappearance from the stasis pod, and just thinking about it made him smile._

_O'Neill was thankful to be alive, glad to have saved Carter, happy to have the team together, healthy and whole, but he knew returning to Earth meant debriefings, medical examinations and psychological evaluations which would try his patience on a good day. And with Hammond in D.C. and Vice President Kinsey sneaking around, when did the SGC ever have good days these days? Still, he knew they had to go back eventually, no matter what was waiting for them._

_While he knew his own improbable return was likely to be unpleasant, Jack was first and foremost a team leader, and as such was considerably more worried about Major Carter's upcoming ordeal. She'd been abducted and held by the human form replicator Fifth__**; **__her mandatory psyche evaluation would be hell._

_Carter seemed to think everything was just fine and would be just fine, but O'Neill knew better. Her initial evaluation would be followed by many sessions before she would successfully deal with it all. Over the next few hours while Carter was misguidedly confident, Jack continued to be very wary about __their return. In private conversations both with Thor and the other members of SG-1, he expressed his hesitation over just what and how much to reveal during debriefing._

_Listening to his team talk about the debriefing following the defeat of Anubis, he was surprised to learn about their very complete reports – they'd even reported how he had healed Bra'tac! Now they were going to admit he designed the weapon that routed the replicators and saved the Asgard. Oh yeah, the debriefing was not going to be pretty._

_Any optimism Jack had managed to garner was replaced with quiet dread when, as the ship settled into Earth's orbit, they received an unusually sounding official communication. After confirming that all members of SG-1 were present and accounted for, Thor was instructed to transport them directly into the gate room. No 'Greetings Thor' or 'How's it going SG-1, what happened?' The unfamiliar voice didn't even ask how Jack was doing after coming out of stasis, and even Thor found the instructions worrisome._

_Unable to avoid the inevitable, Jack thanked his short, gray friend, assuring him not to worry, and then had Thor send them down – where they were met by some seriously armed personnel. Recovering immediately from the transport, SG-1 looked at each other and then around the room and up in the control room they saw Dr. Weir flanked by a couple of unfamiliar men in dark suits. There wasn't time to wonder about them too much though before hearing the order, "SG-1, please cooperate."_

_The first order of cooperation was for them to hand over all of their weapons, which they did. And then the focus shifted. Jack had expected tight security, but was a little shocked when, at gunpoint, he was fully and humiliatingly searched. His eyes told his team to stay quiet and cooperate, until, to make matters worse, his hands were restrained behind his back in nylon flex-cuffs. His team couldn't stay silent, but their protests were cut short when he quickly and quietly said, "Kids, it's all right."_

_And without another word, two gung-ho SFs took him by his arms and hauled him out of the gate room, closely followed by two more. The three remaining team members glared up into the control room just before four additional men escorted them out too, though they weren't searched or restrained._

_Jack and his escorts took the first elevator and the short ride to the infirmary level wasn't enough time to ease his apprehension. Infirmary was better than holding cell though, so he mentally calmed himself and stayed silent. Exiting the car he reminded himself that the last time he'd been here, he'd been going Ancient, saying and doing things that weren't normal. He'd been in the stasis pod until Thor came along to save him by beaming him out of the ancient device, and up to the ship where Jack first created the weapon to fight the replicators, before being revived._

_Now, weeks later he was back, and admittedly they should be cautious. In Dr. Weir's place, Jack knew that he should have been cautious too, would have been cautious. His government had trained him well, and that training coupled with his vast experience had multiplied his paranoia exponentially. __The same paranoia that had saved his life and other lives many times._

_Delivered to an isolation room, he was asked to confirm his name, rank, service number, and birth date before being told to strip off everything and put on scrubs. The nylon flex-cuffs were removed so he could change clothes, but then cuffs went back on, in front this time. Wondering why they seemed to believe he needed to be restrained, he briefly entertained the thought of trying to slip them, but tempting as it was, he knew it wasn't a good idea. Instead he sat on a bed and settled in to wait. Besides, the nylon flex cuffs were much harder to get out of than the standard metal handcuffs._

_Two men he'd never seen before came in and without even a greeting proceeded to rudely question him. Jack politely answered their questions though it was obvious they expected more details or perhaps different answers because they acted frustrated. The taller of the two wore a blue uniform shirt under the white coat and Jack could make out gold oak leafs. The other man wasn't wearing anything military, so O'Neill took him to be a civilian._

_They stopped asking questions and proceeded with the first part of the medical exam by looking in his eyes, his ears, his nose and his mouth. They checked his reflexes with that annoying little hammer and then ran their hands all over his head, neck and body - looking for what, he had no clue. That was alright though since Jack was an old hat at hands-on interrogation._ _Even so he had to fight his own training and experience to remember that cooperating really was in his own best interests, and to distract himself he kept a mental tab on how many times the major called him O'Neill instead of Colonel or Sir. When he'd taken as much as he could stand, he corrected the major, to the grin and chuckle of the civilian. If looks could kill, Jack thought he'd be dead when the officer stiffened to attention and glared before grumpily replying 'yes_ _sir'.__ Truth be told, Jack just didn't like him and liked his lack of respect even less._

_The four SFs stayed with him through everything, and he saw two of them smile slightly when he corrected the major. He could think of several unpleasant things the officer could do in retaliation, but thankfully Jack had waited until near the end of the physical exam to antagonize him._

_He was taken for lab work next. A nurse collected enough blood to make him imagine feeling lightheaded, and then she went on to take a saliva sample and swabbed the inside of his nose. Jack half expected her to demand semen and stool samples, but thankfully the last thing on her list was urine. He told her he didn't need to go, but worried they'd try to take it from him. So he went on to explain that he'd used the facilities aboard Thor's ship just before beaming down to the gate room, so it could be a while. Lucky for him, she accepted his explanation and sent him with his escorts to radiology._

_The cuffs stayed in place for standard x-rays of his body and ultrasound of his abdomen. Even the head-to-toe MRI** was done with him on his back and his cuffed hands above his head. They didn't explain why he had to have both an MRI and a CT*, but they did both. In fact they did two CT scans. The first was normal, but then they injected some dye into the vein in his forearm, and ran it again. The stuff gave him a metallic taste in his mouth and made him feel like he'd produced their urine sample without the cup, and he silently chuckled at the irony._

_The medical tests were lengthy and the security contingent excessive, but his exceptional hearing revealed many snippets of whispered conversations in his many hours hanging about the infirmary. And in one of the whispers was that George Hammond had been promoted to Lieutenant General and was now head of a new department and special adviser to the President._ _Apparently Dr. Elizabeth Weir was still in charge of the SGC, but rumors had her giving up the lucrative job for a chance to lead a team to study the Ancient outpost in Antarctica. Jack almost fell off the bed when he heard that Kinsey had resigned. He almost couldn't believe it, but then felt an immeasurable amount of relief knowing that at least that scumbag couldn't get at him. Now he just had to get the NID and others to leave him alone._

_The betting pool had O'Neill being saved by the Asgard and returning to Earth, but as for after, well most participants figured the Colonel would retire when his security clearance was revoked as they were predicting it would be. It seemed nobody believed that the powers-that-be would ever allow him to go off-world again, or that he would ever be given any type of command. They thought him a __liability, a huge honking security risk, and they were giving odds on h__**i**__m being locked away. If they did let him go – and that was a big if – then he should retire and go fishing._

_Jack had no way of knowing who was gossiping, or who was reporting that gossip. It didn't mean anything. After all, the betting pools had said SG-1 wouldn't last more than six months, the Blackhawks wouldn't make the playoffs and the Prometheus wouldn't fly. Jack was very familiar with the SGC personnel and their habit of backing long shots, so he knew he could forgive them almost anything. Betting on him retiring to fish was a good bet in his mind anyway._

_The tests continued, and Jack kept quiet through most of it, preferring to listen and hoping to learn something. How could someone survive being put through alien cryogenic stasis – yet again? Earth's doctors didn't know, they could barely comprehend what had happened, let alone how it happened, but they wanted to find out. So they tested him, performing both a PET** scan and EEG**. And they asked more questions, and more questions, some of them over and over and over again._

_How did the Asgard stabilize him? What did he remember from the chamber? What did he know about the Ancient weapon? How had he controlled it? Did he remember healing the Jaffa Bra'tac? What was he feeling? What was he thinking? How could all that downloaded knowledge just be gone? What was really going on in his brain? Did he dream? What did he dream about?_

_They considered he might be brain damaged since most questions received one reply – I don't know. To the others he simply said no. Jack dreaded the questions resulting from the debriefing when they found out about the replicators and the weapon he'd built. They might even want to run more tests. Lucky for him, they didn't think to ask about being revived the second time._

_The doctors asked questions, even when they seemed to know they wouldn't get an answer. They mumbled to themselves and murmured to each other. They finally concluded that they needed and wanted more extensive tests, but it was when the civilian mentioned getting a neurologist to obtain a brain tissue sample that Jack O'Neill fought back – literally._

_Feigning a need for the bathroom, Jack was given a plastic sample cup for the sample they'd been waiting for, and was directed to the facilities near the radiology section where he knew a wall phone to be. He was still cuffed and there were many, many guards both inside and outside the immediate area to prevent his escape. However, Jack wasn't looking to get away. He just needed to make one phone call._

_Hoping that the remembered cell number was still active, he efficiently and rather gently incapacitated the SF closest to him and quickly retrieved the man's sidearm. He was mildly surprised it was so easy. Then, herding the others, he went straight to the wall phone that he knew had outside access and punched in the number for General Hammond. Holding the men at bay Jack knew his time amounted to seconds at best, but he desperately hoped that was enough time to get a message through to his friend. __Those precious seconds ticked by until enough time had passed for his call to jump to the cell towers in the DC area, and Jack almost expected to hear an out of service message, when suddenly he heard one ring and then got through to Hammond's voice mail. He anxiously waited for the beep, watching the SFs closely, but knowing that he couldn't keep an eye out for all of the inevitable reinforcements sure to show up at any second._

_And then finally. _"_General, this is O'Neill! I'm back. Thor fixed me, but the quacks here are fixing to slice and dice my brain, and sir, I'm thinking I'll be off to secure lockup or dead before you even get this message."_

_Jack was forced to cut it short when someone very strong with big hands and even bigger forearms grabbed him from behind around his neck and shoulder, forcing him down to the floor. The handset dropped by the cord, but the line didn't disconnect. When General George Hammond got the message he was subjected to the alarming sounds of one special ops trained Colonel trying to fight his way back to the phone using only non-lethal force against a troop of armed SFs who weren't nearly so concerned about inflicting painful or even permanent damage on him._

_The message ended when an ominous shout suddenly rose above the din: "General! They're gonna kill m—__oomph!_"

TBC

*Egg Beaters are available in original, cheese and chive, Southwestern, garden vegetable and whites.

**MRI - magnetic resonance imaging - used to visualize the internal structure and function of the body.

**CT scan - computerized axial tomography scan - an x-ray procedure combining many x-ray images with the aid of a computer to generate cross-sectional views and, if needed, three-dimensional images of the internal organs and structures of the body. Computerized axial tomography is more commonly known by its abbreviated names, CT scan or CAT scan.

**PET scan - positron emission tomography is a type of nuclear medicine imaging. Also called PET imaging.

**EEG - electroencephalogram - a test used to detect abnormalities related to electrical activity of the brain. This procedure tracks and records brain wave patterns.

* * *

About the test procedures - I'm sure there is protocol for standardized care when administering all the tests mentioned in this story and for sure a person probably wouldn't get them all or get them all in the same day. In this fictional story Jack got practically every medical test known to mankind and it all happened in the same day. And the test results all came back fast too. :)

**Special thanks to Zeilfanaat for being my beta. It's not easy because I write like I speak (regional American slang for the most part) and while I want to keep that as part of my style, I appreciate very much her telling me when something is just not right and then helping me change it. My spelling is lousy, my grammar even worse and I don't know when to use a comma. She's doing a great job and I would be lost without her. Anything wrong with this story, all the chapters, anything at all wrong like typos, run-on-words, punctuation, grammar, inaccuracies, anything at all, it's all on me. I spellchecked this chapter three times and read through it twice. I'm sorry if I still missed things and I'll keep trying to do better.**

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or sent me email. Also to those of you still reading. And as always, suggestions, advice, corrections and feedback of all kinds submitted in review or sent to me personally are welcome and appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

Previously in chapter 9 - _Jack was forced to cut it short when someone quite strong grabbed him from behind around his neck and shoulder, forcing him down to the floor. The handset dropped by the cord, but the line didn't disconnect. When General Hammond got the message he was subjected to the alarming sounds of his friend trying to fight his way back to the phone using only non-lethal force against a troop of armed SFs who weren't nearly so concerned about inflicting painful or even permanent damage. The message ended when an ominous shout suddenly rose above the din: "General! They're gonna kill m—__oomph!__"_

**Chapter 10**

_And the rest, as they say, was silence. Actually the call dropped, or the line disconnected, and Jack was left bruised and subdued on the floor outside x-ray. Someone had a knee pressed into his back, and though he had dropped the weapon immediately, a booted foot kept his cuffed hands pinned to the floor. It took only a few seconds for them to shackle his ankles and get his hands secured behind his back._

_The head of the security detail left after announcing he was going to speak to his commander, and for far too long Jack didn't think it would matter whether or not Hammond got his message; it would be too late. Due to the weight on his back, he couldn't even raise his head a little to turn it the other direction. He heard muffled sounds as the downed SF was removed for treatment, and Jack knew he'd have to answer for what he had done. He could only hope the young man wasn't seriously injured._

_In less than a minute he was jerked up off the floor between two burly men and shuffled off to a security holding cell where, without word, the leg chains were removed, but not the cuffs. An apologetic Dr. Weir arrived a little later explaining that he was being held until the NID decided what to do with him and made the arrangements for his transfer. A brain tissue sample was still a possibility, as well as a transfer to another secure facility and there was nothing she could do. She didn't say he'd been compromised, but it was pretty clear to him that thought was on her mind._

_Jack didn't respond at first. He knew why he was there, he just didn't agree with it. The ACLU would never hear a word. He couldn't argue Geneva Convention since he wasn't being held by a foreign power, and with everything so secretive even Amnesty International couldn't help him. He could forget about a care package from the Red Cross, so he knew for certain a pizza delivery was out of the question._

_Upon reflection, it was the sincere sympathy in her eyes that kept him from cursing her in Farsi or Goa'uld, and before she departed he did talk to her. He didn't apologize about getting away or making the phone call. That was self preservation. He asked about the SF he had manhandled and was relieved that the guy was just fine, probably already released from the infirmary and being chewed out by his CO. For that much Jack was thankful. She had asked, but he wouldn't tell her which general he had called. She hadn't pushed, probably realizing that he had no reason at all to trust her. He knew she must have suspected it was Hammond._

_He requested and was granted a trip to the men's room which he now needed for real. Dr Weir went __back to her office, and Jack went in chains to fill the little plastic cup under the watchful eyes and cold hands of the SFs because – yep, you guessed it – they wouldn't remove the cuffs restraining his hands behind his back. The NID ordered him restrained, even in the holding cell._

_Much later Jack was pacing, but he couldn't work up to a steady rhythm without his arms. Then he tried to lounge sort of comfortably on his side – that being the position of least protest from what he rather suspected were a pair of badly bruised ribs – and he was getting seriously worried. He wondered if Weir even tried to get in touch with the President or just accepted the claims of the NID. Maybe she was part of them. Them, they, the NID, the bad guys, the ones who thought they knew what was best for the SGC and Earth, the same ones who wanted a piece of his brain._

_He wished Thor had stayed around monitoring things, because if Hammond didn't come through there was no telling what would happen. His life and ergo his brain belonged to the United States Air Force to be used however they pleased, and whatever rights he may have had, had disappeared as soon as the alien influence had hijacked his brain. In this secret program there would be nobody to report any wrong doing, nothing for anyone to do at all. TPTB could and would make Jack O'Neill disappear._

_The SF just outside the bars wouldn't even look at him, let alone make small talk. Jack had nothing to do, they wouldn't give him a newspaper or even a training manual. Every hour the SFs changed posts, when the one inside went out and one from outside came in. Jack didn't have a watch, but guessed it would be another ten or fifteen minutes before they would change again._

_Then suddenly he heard the distinctive sound of the electronic locking mechanism and he watched through the bars as the door opened. Hoping they were bringing him food and water and not coming to take him back to the infirmary, he was cautiously optimistic when he saw the Airman straighten from parade rest, and then he saw Weir along with NORAD's two-star Chief of Staff._

_The General, whom he'd had contact with several times wasn't exactly who he was expecting, but he rationalized by remembering that if General Hammond got his message that he would need a little time to go through __channels. Just because he had connections, and apparently the President's ear, didn't mean he could get access to him whenever he wanted. He was special advisor though, which gave Jack realistic optimism, but he knew Hammond would need to make some calls and talk to some people… rational people... reasonable people._

_So he'd go to the Joint Chiefs, specifically the Chairman and the Air Force Chief and maybe the SecDef, and that would take time. The Secretary of the Air Force had only been informed about the Stargate Program a couple of days ago and his anger at having been excluded for so long was still evident, so he was not a good choice. Even if Hammond got through to someone who could and would help, it would take time. And that person would have to use someone besides Dr. Weir to tell the NID what they could do with their plans for O'Neill._

_The NID had ridden roughshod over her and rendered her powerless by usurping her authority and controlling everything about his return. Hammond would have had to make sure that the President and __others were made aware of the NID's intentions and confirm that they disagreed too. Then someone, most likely a person high in the chain of command, would need to get the NID out of the mountain, preferably without them somehow secreting him out along with them. The high ranking officer was needed to insure that the military personnel followed any new orders, and not the instructions of the people currently in charge, just in case a confrontation of some kind became necessary. The secrecy of the program limited the possibilities to a number of senior officials, but NORAD's commanders had clearance and were close by. Jack was grateful this wasn't several years ago when nobody upstairs knew anything about what went on in Stargate Command, aka Deep Space Radar Telemetry, because on this day he needed someone a lot sooner rather than later._

_Jack's message to Hammond had gone through. Hammond had been able to contact the right people. __The right people contacted NORAD command. NORAD command stepped in __and Jack was more than aware that the Major General was waiting for him to react. It took several seconds for him to bring himself into a sitting position by swinging his legs off the bunk. Then he hauled himself up, his hands clenching into fists behind his back as he struggled to stand, and was immediately aware of pain and stiffness in his knees and ribs. On top of that his shoulders had stiffened along with his back and he found himself definitely looking forward to some extra strength Tylenol and a hot shower._

_It was hardly painless, but he managed to finally get on his feet and stand at slightly hunched attention, looking for something good in the faces of the two people watching from outside the bars. His visitors looked uncomfortable, what with Dr. Weir studying the floor and the senior officer glancing around the small room before settling on him. Still hoping that the appearance of the General was something positive, Jack didn't say a word, and for several seconds the two men silently evaluated each other._

_Then the General spoke the magic words. _"_Senior Airman, open the cell and remove those cuffs."_

_The order was immediately followed and briefly O'Neill flexed his shoulders and massaged his wrists, before stepping forward to bring himself to attention once again. Dr. Weir still looked a little uncomfortable, but the Major General nodded, quickly offering his hand. _"_As you were Colonel, and welcome home."_

"_Thank you, Sir," O'Neill quietly responded before turning his gaze to Dr. Weir. He still didn't completely trust her, but she looked repentant. _"_Dr. Weir, it's good to see you again."_

_The NORAD Chief of Staff looked somewhat relieved and Jack wondered who'd briefed the man – and just what it was they'd told him. His homecoming so far sucked, but for now Jack held onto his anger. The jury was still out on Dr. Weir, but seniority aside, the General was hardly a suitable target, especially if the man was in any way responsible for his return to freedom._

"_Colonel O'Neill, you are restricted to base until further notice." Well, partial freedom anyway. Jack knew getting out of the cell would be easier than getting out of the mountain, and he also recognized the underlying implied order – no phone calls, no contact, don't talk about anything._

"_You will report for debriefing in one hour," he continued, looking the Colonel up and down. There might have been a time when Jack would be angry or even embarrassed by the look the General gave his appearance, but not now, not today. It wasn't his fault they hadn't let him clean-up or given him any actual clothes._

"_Until then, maybe you'd like a shower." The General's eyes kind of sparkled, as if he might be getting a kick out of the Colonel's obviously non-regulation appearance, including the dirtied knees of his scrubs. Perhaps he'd been told about his break for freedom. Jack didn't care, he was just glad to be out of the cell and not going back to the infirmary. If that was going to happen the cuffs would not have been removed. And the leg chains would have been put back on. And more SFs, lots more SFs would be in the room. Oh yeah, lots more SFs._

"T_hank you, Sir," O'Neill replied, relief obvious in both his voice and his demeanor._

_Dr. Weir was looking at him expectantly, and his eyes met hers. _"_Colonel, you can't speak with your team until after your debriefing, but I do have a message from them." This was good._

"_Dr Jackson, Major Carter and Teal'c would like you to join them for a late dinner after your debriefing. They'll be waiting for you in Dr. Jackson's office." She looked pleased to be able to give him the news._

"_Dinner will be good," he replied, suddenly realizing his own extreme hunger and thirst._

_Ten minutes later he was showering without a watchdog, after raiding his office for Tylenol and sending an airman to get him a snack and an icepack. The airman didn't bring a feast, but Jack wanted to be hungry for dinner so he shared, taking half the sandwich, four country fries and three tomato slices. The airman gladly accepted the rest, even staying inside the room when the officer insisted. They didn't talk much, and Jack resisted the urge to relax while he ate, for fear he might fall asleep._

_Following a lengthy taped video-conference debriefing, he was finally reunited with his team. They ate dinner together in the mess talking about nothing, but Jack knew that he would always remember the looks on their faces when they first caught sight of him. They were a mix of 'glad to see you' and 'what the heck happened to your face?' - absolutely priceless._

_The medical testing portion was over and the psychological evaluation followed. After the lab tests came back clean, and everything was reviewed by still more doctors, Jack was cleared for return to active duty. And though they'd never actually discussed it, he was absolutely certain that General __George Hammond had intervened to save him. There was no doubt in his mind._

Saved to be promoted and taken out of the field. O'Neill used to wince internally when he thought about how that had happened. Of course after the surprise had worn off, and he actually was the General in charge of Stargate Command, every reservation, insecurity and fear of failure he'd ever had hit him full force. Believing he wasn't right for the job or the job wasn't right for him, he'd come close to bailing out and asking Hammond and the President to replace him. Then in a span of two to three days, he'd been hit with an unreal number of challenging situations, but instead of failing, he'd actually managed to handle things.

After that he had thrived in the new job. He still missed going off world, always would, but he was too old for field work and since receiving his second star was actually enjoying his time in Washington, DC. Things were different, but they were still okay, and in some cases better than just okay. He'd been told by Hammond to give the new job a little time, that it would grow on him. Yeah, he thought at the time, grow on him like a fungus. In the end the job not only grew on him, but he grew into the job. With George Hammond's help and encouragement, Jack had actually become comfortable and had grown fond of his position as head of Homeworld Security. Getting comfortable with the IOA and politics took a lot longer. Now back at Stargate Command more than eighteen months later, his former CO was really retiring, and as much as he'd miss his good friend, Jack was ready to ride the Washington bicycle without the Hammond training wheels. Landry still hadn't come back to the control room, so Jack leaned back in the chair thinking some more about the days just before he got his first star.

_It was before his visit with Dr. MacKenzie that Dr. Weir had asked to see him. He hadn't expected to talk with her until after he was cleared. They'd spoken briefly after he was released from the holding cell, but other than his debriefing, they hadn't spoken at length about much of anything._

_He'd been surprised to learn about the Goa'uld contacting the SGC and three of them actually visiting. He wasn't ready to think about the one that stayed. Daniel hadn't mentioned any of it when they'd been on the return trip from Orilla. O'Neill guessed there had been too much else to talk about, though he couldn't remember too much of it. Maybe Daniel had told him. Thor insisted his memories would return, but had forgotten to mention that Jack's short term memory might be messed up for a while too. Thankfully by the time they all got back after kicking Fifth's butt, his memory was in pretty good shape. Dr. Weir had been happy to fill him in on things that the others hadn't, but the biggest surprise had been her apology._

"_Colonel, I owe you an apology. I let the NID in here, and I allowed them to dictate how to deal with you. I shudder to think what could have happened."_

_O'Neill had seen even Hammond get pushed around by the NID, so he couldn't be too upset. Of course, not having brain surgery or getting locked away somewhere had helped his disposition immensely and it wouldn't do anybody any good for him to lash out._

"_Dr. Weir, it wasn't your fault __and you don't need to apologize." He watched as the worry lines on her face eased a little before adding, "You helped get the mission approved in the first place and as I understand it you stood up to Kinsey."_

_She had looked embarrassed before smiling and revealing, "Yes, I did and it felt good too."_

_They had both laughed before Jack continued. "When Anubis attacked, you recommended the Prometheus provide cover for the Teltac?" She nodded._

_"You let Colonel Carter and Teal'c take the Teltac to find Thor." She nodded again._

_Even Jack was surprised that had happened since the little ship was faster than anything Earth had after he'd modified it. __She had smiled and they had a nice inconsequential chat before the phone rang. It was for Jack, and she had left him in her office alone to take the call, much like she'd done before._

"_Hello General, how are you? How's D.C.?" Yep, deja vu._

"_It's all good. I understand you're very close to being cleared for active duty."_

_The man knew everything. "Yes, Sir, just have to see __MacKenzie."_

"_Good, I'm sure that will be no problem." Hammond knew Jack's history, and turning ancient, saving the planet, going into stasis, coming out of stasis and saving the Asgard was nothing compared to what he'd been through in the past, so he saw no reason why the man wouldn't easily pass the psych evaluation. Dr. MacKenzie was a good man and knew O'Neill well, so they'd get through it all pretty quickly. They'd had their differences over the years, but what started as grudging respect for the other had turned into genuine esteem._

_"Not that I mind talking to you, General, but didn't we just chat a few hours ago w__hen you told me all about the new department and how the President jumped all over the NID." He didn't give Hammond a chance to respond before he asked, "I didn't hallucinate that conversation did I, Sir?"_

_It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Jack hoped it wasn't true, hoped he wasn't hallucinating because it meant the NID would still be after him, even more now if he was hallucinating. Kinsey might be gone, but the people he had put in place were still there and a very real threat. Proof of that threat had met Jack head-on when he got back. __The NID had come in with written authorization from the White House declaring Colonel Jack O'Neill compromised and a security risk. They had wanted to take him into custody and transport him out of the mountain. Dr. Weir had called the wrong people for verification, but had succeeded in keeping him at the SGC for the medical tests. Dr. Weir hadn't rolled over. She was rolled over. Rolled over by Kinsey's powerful above-the-law NID cronies._

_When Hammond had received the voice message h__e didn't contact Dr. Weir or anyone else at the SGC to find out what was going on because he already knew. Jack had told him. Instead of trying to get through to the President, he contacted the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs who could easily get in to see President Hayes or at least speak to him. Following the initial call, Maynard, Mantley and Hammond all went to the White House for a briefing about the Jack O'Neill situation. It took only one minute of explanation before the President was ready to call Dr. Weir, but the three Generals knew that would be a mistake. The NID would probably know that she was going to get a call before the switchboard even put it through and attempt to remove O'Neill. They decided to use NORAD because the military force at the SGC would follow an Air Force Generals's orders before those of an NID operative or even Dr. Weir. Hayes learned then that it was just one more reason to have a military leader at the base - perception to the public be damned. After a call and followup fax, the NID folks were thrown out of the mountain __and Jack was released from custody. In a sweeping move in Washington, anyone who had even been seen talking to any of Kinsey's former staff following his resignation,_ _were immediately let go or reassigned to lower profile departments far away from the White House and Eisenhower Executive office building._

_Now Jack was hoping that it wasn't all some weird hallucination._

_Hammond chuckled. "No, you didn't hallucinate any of it." After several seconds of silence Hammond asked, "__Are you sitting down, Jack?" He wasn't chuckling anymore._

_Jack hadn't been sitting, but he was now as he hesitantly answered, "Yes, Sir." He had a slight feeling of dread, and wondered what Hammond needed to tell him._

"_I know this won't be a total shock," Hammond started. He knew Jack had to suspect what was coming; the man was not stupid._

_Jack's gut wrenched. He knew. _"_I'm being taken out of the field, aren't I, Sir?"_

_Hammond had been ready."Now Jack, you make it sound like it's a bad thing." His voice resonated in that paternal tone Jack knew well._

"_Well, isn't it? I mean, well, I don't know what I mean. Retirement__ doesn't look so bad now that I think about my cabin and fishing," Jack quipped, trying to make light of the seemingly devastating news._

"_You're not retiring Jack. Not yet," Hammond firmly responded._

_If he wasn't going to be in the field and he wasn't retiring, what in the world did they want him for? He didn't have to wait long to find out what Hammond had on his mind._

"_Son, keep this to yourself." He didn't wait for O'Neill to reply. Hammond knew the man would keep his mouth shut. "Dr. Weir has asked to be relieved."_

_O'Neill was stunned since they'd just had a nice conversation, a kind of meeting of the minds, and everything seemed to be okay._

"_General, we just talked, she seemed fine. I swear I haven't done anything to piss her off."_

"_I know you haven't, Son. She feels guilty about the NID. And she is admitting that as exciting as it's all been, she really wants more research and wants to start with a study of the ancient outpost."_

_There was silence for a few seconds as Jack pondered Hammond's words, and then the General revealed, "The President has agreed to put her in charge of that project, so we need a SGC commander."_

_Jack almost couldn't believe he'd heard right. He was being taken out of the field a__nd they needed a new commander. They needed a new commander and he was being taken out of the field. click _"_You can't mean me, Sir?"_

_Hammond recognized the disbelief in O'Neill's voice and told him emphatically,"Yes, Jack, I mean you. President Hayes and the Joint Chiefs want you in command."_

_O'Neill bit his tongue to keep from swearing into the phone. He timidly asked, "You're staying in Washington, aren't you, Sir?" Jack was suddenly feeling a little bit insecure __and hoped Hammond would still be around for advice and support. He knew Hammond was selected to slide into the new position, but something inside Jack told him to confirm it. Jack wasn't afraid of the command opportunity, and didn't have severe misgivings, just honest reservations. He knew he'd never be the commander Hammond was, but with Hammond's help and counsel and he would be on that SGC personnel deserved._

"_Yes, the President is making some changes, and my place is here. I know for you that giving up field work will take some getting used to, but you said months ago that it was going to happen pretty soon."_

_Jack thought for a second, remembering conversations with both Doctor Janet Fraiser and Hammond about his age and his knees, and how he couldn't keep going forever. He'd stressed then that it wouldn't be so bad if he could quit going through the gate on his own terms. TPTB weren't waiting for that to happen, but maybe promotion wasn't a bad way__ for it to happen. After all, there were way worse ways it could have happened._

"_I don't know what to say." And he really didn't. Promotion to Brigadier General? Who would have imagined? Who could have imagined?_

"_Say you'll think about it and that you won't let on to Dr. Weir that you know anything."_

"_Yes, Sir," Jack softly replied. Keeping a secret like like this one was easy._

"_And Jack, give me a call tonight." Hammond knew that Jack would come around. And Jack had every intention of calling Hammond after he'd had time to think._

_He'd left her office heading somewhere, he wasn't sure where. One more appointment and he'd be cleared. He still couldn't believe they wanted to put him in command, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew he'd give it a try. God only knew who they'd peg if he said no. And his knees were getting worse, and he was getting older, and feeling older. He'd miss the field, but things change. This could be a good change._

_It would be easy with Weir, she didn't know him well at all, and convincing her he was surprised wouldn't be hard. SG-1 was another story altogether. He'd need to string them along, let them think he needed their help to decide about everything. It would be fun for him and they'd feel like they were helping. Teal'c would be the hardest one to deceive, but he wouldn't let on to the others that he suspected something. Jack knew he could count on his friend to play along. Later that night he'd called General Hammond and they'd talked for over an hour._

_The next morning after only half an hour, MacKenzie cleared him. He'd reported to Dr. Weir's office and found her packing boxes. Jack had known it was time to play along and it had gone beautifully. A while later he'd summoned his team together, and that had gone well too. If Teal'c suspected anything he hadn't let on. Then the announcement had come that he'd been summoned to Washington, DC, supposedly to give a first hand account about the Asgard and the replicators, but really it was to have his meeting with the President and Joint Chiefs._

_Afterward he had received his stars, pinned on him by Hammond and Air Force Chief of Staff Mike Mantley in a very exclusive and very secret ceremony. The SGC command change had been planned, and while there were lots of rumors, it was only Dr. Weir and SG-1 who had known for certain that he was going to be the new commander. That was, until he had returned to the mountain base wearing his new stars, and then everyone knew before he ever arrived on sub level 27._

A lot had happened since he was promoted. Another promotion in fact. He still felt like shaking his head every time he thought about it. And now there was talk that he'd be promoted to Lt. General, maybe even before the Ori armies were defeated and Ba'al, not a clone, but the real one, was caught. He didn't care about a third star, not really, but rank did help him do his job better with allies and the IOA. Due to the secrecy of the Stargate and related programs, Jack wasn't expected to hobnob with anyone in Washington, DC who was not already intimately familiar with Homeworld Security and that suited him just fine. Socializing with politicians was not his cup of tea and he'd rather do almost anything else... anything.

Turning his attention back to the security document in his hand, O'Neill leafed to the back sheets of the plan and saw the signature pages. The SecDef and Joint Chiefs had approved and signed off on the security plan covering this visit. The plan was classified, with some pages for eyes only, and other pages had not even been copied. Whole sections were blacked out. Other pages were left blank with only page numbers.

The security additions with information about codes not known to base personnel were not in this copy of the plan, not even in encrypted form. They were not listed in the front or the back, in fact as far as the SGC knew, they didn't exist. A new key card was to be issued to O'Neill and now the new security guy. Suddenly Captain Guernsey's access would not be so limited. It had taken only 30 hours for the Captain to go from relative new hire to someone almost in charge of SGC computer security. Jack's gut wrenched again, then he heard footfalls on the metal stairs and turned to see Hank about one third of the way down where he had stopped.

"Jack, I need a few minutes. Jordan and Guernsey are here, and I need a word. You want to wait for me?"

Hank looked like either way he was fine, so Jack made the decision and responded. "I'll head to my quarters; give me a call when you're ready."

"That sounds good," he replied and plowed back up the stairs.

Jack looked at the security plan for another minute before getting up. He stretched his legs, slipped a couple of fingers inside the neck of his collar before smoothing his trousers and jacket. Taking the bundle of papers with him, he headed down the steps and through the door into the corridor. A young SF was waiting for him, quickly straightening up, and squaring his shoulders as Jack approached.

"General O'Neill, sir. I am to accompany you to your quarters."

"Thank you son," O'Neill replied and walked with the kid to the elevator.

The young man slipped his own key card into the slot on the wall and the door opened. Both men entered and the button for level 25 was pressed. It was only a few seconds before the doors opened, and the SF waited for Jack to step out. He quickly followed and turned left at the junction passing only a few doors before reaching their destination. Jack recognized where he was and silently thanked Hank for the room with the best location.

"I'll wait for you by the elevator, sir. General Landry said you don't have access….yet."

Jack couldn't help but smile with the long pause between access and yet. It was true; they hadn't done any of the security things they needed to…yet. The SF turned the door knob and pushed open the door, quickly and smoothly stepping back out of the way.

"Thank you, Airman," he politely told the young man and entered the room.

Glancing around at the familiar surroundings, he put the bound security document on the dresser. One bedside lamp was on and he could see the walls were freshly painted and the bedspread new, complete with the Air Force insignia embroidered on the blue background. He pulled it back, revealing crisp white sheets that looked like they'd been ironed, and cases covering standard issue pillows. The room was clean yet sparse with only necessities, but that was fine with Jack. It was as good or better than most motels.

Jack saw his bag on the luggage rack and noticed it was open. He looked inside and found the garment bag section empty. He found his uniforms hanging in the closet, looking fresh like they'd been steamed. His trousers, shirts and coats were all hung crisply, even his ties hanging separately looked pressed. His jeans, Dockers and casual shirts were also there on wooden hangers.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it next to the others, thinking how most of the clothes were no longer necessary since he'd be going back so soon. Jack hadn't been completely sure what to bring with him. He knew he needed a service dress in addition to the one he wore, but he wasn't sure about mess dress so he'd brought it anyway. The more formal attire was usually reserved for events like the Air Force Ball and weddings, but with a trip like this one Jack knew to be prepared for anything. Even Mantley didn't seem to know and had packed the same way.

He pondered what they'd do to him if he showed up wearing jungle camouflage while he put away his folded clothing items and tossed his shaving kit with toiletry items onto the bathroom counter, where two extra rolls of toilet paper already resided. He then took out his spare shoes and removed them from the shine bags, giving each a quick rubdown with a soft cloth before depositing them on the rack in the closet. He moved to the wall by the door and found the room controls, flipping the switch for the ceiling fan. The room was clean, but a little stuffy, and Jack felt stuffy enough just wearing his uniform. Retrieving the papers from the dresser top he sat down, thinking he might as well finish scanning the document while waiting for his phone call.

General Landry finished his brief orientation with Guernsey, his new computer security man and sent him on his way. His orders were to head back to the auxiliary security office on sub level 16 where he'd team with Major Moore. The head of SGC security Colonel Jordan stayed seated in Landry's office after Guernsey departed. The two men waited until the office door was again closed before speaking.

"What do you think?" Landry addressed the Colonel thoughtfully.

"Wish I had more time to get used to him, Sir," he thoughtfully admitted.

"I understand completely, but the Captain knows his job and he knows what's at stake. You said yourself that he's done a good job up on 16."

"Yes sir. It's just kind of sudden." Landry nodded. He understood and even agreed, but with the President and other VIPs already there, they had no choice except to go forward.

Jordan hesitated only a moment before adding, "I'll issue him an updated key card and passwords ASAP."

"Thank you, Colonel. That will be all for now." Landry watched as the Colonel stood up and silently left the office. He turned at the last second to close the door, but the CO waved him off and picked up the phone knowing that O'Neill was waiting for him.

Jack was half reading, half daydreaming when the phone rang. Its loud ring startled him slightly, but he got up and quickly took the few strides to the nightstand.

"O'Neill," he announced, noticing the phone smelled slightly of disinfectant.

"Hey Jack, I'm finished here so... I'll meet you in the control room?"

He waited for O'Neill's reply and then left his office to dismiss the airmen in the hall and at the top of the stairs, before descending to the control room.

Leaving his jacket behind, O'Neill left his temporary quarters and headed for the elevator. The SF escort had heard the door and was waiting with the elevator door already open. The ride down to 28 was faster than the ride up had been and it wasn't any time at all before Jack was stepping through the control room door. Hank was already there, sitting in the chair Jack had vacated 20 minutes earlier.

Landry stood and pulled over another chair as he spoke to the SFs outside both doors.

"You're dismissed until I call for you. Please inform the gate techs and then retreat to the elevator."

"Yes sir," they replied practically in unison, and only their shoes could be heard as they walked away. The two generals waited until they could no longer hear the footfalls before either man moved.

Without a word, Landry reached over to enable a switch on the computer mainframe, and displays started lighting up, bringing everything out of standby mode. In under a minute the computer was ready, and he was entering info known only to him.

"I already disabled the control room security cameras, and now I'll input the code to erase the record of changes. I understand you also have a code which when entered will prevent all keystrokes from being recorded."

"Yes Hank, I do, and it is imperative that no one else knows we've done any of this."

Both knew it wouldn't be hard for any of the security personnel or Carter to accidentally become aware of someone using the computer, and it wouldn't take them long to check out what was done. All of them were very good and could possibility stumble across something without even knowing it.

They would believe they were looking at a security breach or some kind of subterfuge, and it would be natural for them to investigate further. Both generals knew it was better to leave them nothing at all to find, nothing at all to be curious about.

"There's no reason for anyone to know anything about it, as long as those codes will keep the changes invisible. If the codes don't work then I cannot guarantee someone won't make a discovery," Landry told him, speaking softly.

"I've been assured that after I enter the codes it will appear as if nothing else was done on this system," O'Neill kept his voice low. "The recorded data will have Major General Jack O'Neill being issued a controlled access key card for the dates specified, and that's it."

Hank nodded and continued typing. Jack didn't pay attention, he knew about most of what was being entered, and the rest were passwords he didn't need. He had his own, and they were more powerful than Landry's.

"Okay Jack, you just need to enter your Homeworld information and then press F6 to enable the system to accept whatever you are going to put into it." He carefully rolled his chair away to make room.

Jack slid his chair into the place vacated by Hank's chair, and out of habit looked around first to make sure there really were no eyes watching. The security cameras had been turned off, both sight and sound disabled, the SF presence relieved and Hank had turned around, facing the other way.

'Good man,' O'Neill thought as he looked at the display. "This will just take a minute or two," he told Hank.

Jack watched the displayed information after he pressed the correct function key: not F6, but Landry didn't need to know that. The screen flashed a couple of times and went black with only a flashing cursor visible. He entered his 18 digit code, his fingers roaming all over the keyboard including the space bar. Then he pressed enter, and it looked as if the computer wasn't going to do anything. No sound, no change in the display, nothing, and he leaned back in the chair to wait. The cameras were disabled, but he hadn't taken any chances. Making sure he was carefully hunched over the keyboard. his body had blocked all views of his hands.

The screen changed to a light blue color, and again all that was left was the flashing cursor. Jack leaned forward and entered another 18 digit code and pressed enter again. This time the computer made a familiar chunking sound, the display brightened and flashed and the computer looked like it was shut down. If you didn't know better you'd think something had gone terribly wrong.

"All right Hank, I need the card now."

Landry turned his chair around, reached into his shirt pocket and took out a laminated card, handing it to his friend. He saw the dark monitor, but didn't say anything, just turned back around. Jack looked at both sides of the card before inserting it into the slot next to the palm reader for the iris.

"I need you to input your validation code, and then I need to enter additional information for the system to accept new changes," Jack explained.

"These are changes I already know about?" Hank asked to confirm what he thought he already knew. There was something about all the secrecy that nagged at his brain, and he knew Jack would understand him inquiring.

"Yes….and no. Sorry Hank."

Jack actually felt a little bad saying those words to his friend, but it was SGC and national security. There were no options. He just hoped Hank knew it too.

Landry didn't hesitate, didn't flinch, heck didn't even seem to wonder about it. The man was a model Air Force officer, a Major General and when he was told to do something, he did it. Not without thinking he didn't, but this was Jack, who even though he was also a Major General, technically outranked him by job assignment and was privy to info Hank didn't have, and there were lots of other minor reasons that made him obey without question. In fact, he mumbled a "Yes Sir" as he entered his code, and then slid back, once again swiveling his chair around.

Hank stared straight ahead, remembering the conversations he'd had with Jack and Hammond, together and separately, and he was completely comfortable with whatever they had cooked up for the security of his base. Jack moved again to the keyboard, entered some numbers and letters, and took out the card before taking a couple of minutes to enter additional data. The stream of code on the screen went on and on, until he was finally finished and pressed the enter key. He half smiled thinking about how his memory was in pretty good shape to remember all of it.

Jack then took a plastic card from his own shirt pocket and slipped it fully into the slot. He entered another long code, waited for the computer, and removed his card. Then he slipped the new card back in, returning his own to his pocket. His Homeworld card was now linked to the gate computer as well as all access slots throughout the facility. The computer chunked and beeped a couple of times before the display again went dark. Both men could hear the slight wheeze it made as the cooling fan shut down, and once again the system was in standby mode. Jack removed the card and eased himself up from the chair.

"Thanks, I'll test this at the elevator," he told Landry who swiped his own card to put the gate computer back exactly the way it was before O'Neill made the changes.

"Does anyone around here have any clue about your capabilities with computers?"

"Nope," O'Neill responded matter-of-factly. Landry smiled. O'Neill didn't admit or deny his computer skills. He just let everyone believe what they wanted to believe. A computer genius he wasn't, but he was capable of much more than anyone expected.

"I need to enable the cameras and review the final security reports. You want me to call you when they're finished upstairs?"

O'Neill thought for just a second before he replied, "Yeah, guess I better have a few minutes notice to put on my dancing shoes." He started for the door. "Hank," O'Neill hesitated.

"I know Jack. It's okay. You'll tell me when you can."

"Yeah," O'Neill confirmed, smiling almost sadly at his friend before turning to leave. Sometimes orders sucked.

Landry headed for the other doorway to call back the SFs while O'Neill headed to the elevator to test his new card before going to his temporary quarters. And leaving Colonel Jordon's office, Captain Arden Guernsey smiled as he slipped his shiny new key card into his shirt pocket.

TBC

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Big thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and to everyone else who has/had good thoughts about her. I value her hard work in more ways than I can ever express in my regional American slang way. My beta doesn't have any problems at all expressing herself or telling me what she thinks, which is good. :) And here's what she wrote to the reviewers when I told her about their praise of her.

'Thank you for the sweet words. I'm having a good time working on this story and it's nice to see the readers appreciate the editing. So: thank you!'

(Sorry Z, I left out the part of your statement where you praised me.)

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**And if anyone is wondering about this stuff, well here it is.**

Leadership according to the NORAD site (2007 to present)

Commander – 4 star USAF General

Deputy Commander – 3 star Canadian General

Chief of Staff – 2 star USAF General

Senior Enlisted Leader – Chief Master Sergeant USAF

ACLU - American Civil Liberties Union - known to step in to protect a person's loss of liberty.

Geneva Convention - international treaties and their additional protocols that protect people who do not take part in the fighting or those who can no longer fight, like prisoners of war. But not when you're held by your own gov.

Amnesty International - stands up for humanity and human rights. Their purpose is to protect people wherever justice, freedom, truth and dignity are denied. But not usually when it's by your own gov.

Red Cross- provides relief to disaster victims and helps communities prepare for and respond to all kinds of emergencies. Internationally they help with restoration of basic and essential services, provide medical and infrastructure support, along with many other services, and during war time provide care packages to POWs.


	11. Chapter 11

I created some characters and named them. Any similarity to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Many thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta. She easily discovers errors that go right past me most of the time. As always, anything wrong, screwed-up or hinky in any way is all on me.

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Previously in chapter 10 - Landry headed for the other doorway to call back the SFs while O'Neill headed to the elevator to test his new card before going to his temporary quarters. And in the auxiliary security office up on 16, Captain Arden Guernsey smiled as he slipped his shiny new key card onto his pocket.

**Chapter 11**

Upstairs in the mountain complex, Air Force Chief of Staff General Michael Mantley had just finished speaking and the applause was still deafening when the NORAD Commander returned to the podium. The four star General raised his hands palms down indicating to the crowd that they should quiet down just a bit and he waited until the noise level dropped before speaking.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, I am honored and pleased to present, the President of the United States, our Commander-in-Chief, President Henry Hayes."

'Hail to the Chief' began streaming from the speaker system and the crowd waited for Hayes to appear. It wasn't long before a group at the left side of the stage started clapping and then the rest of the gathered crowd saw the President, and the applause and cheering became almost deafening. Smiling at everyone as he passed by, he made his way to the podium and faced the personnel assembled to greet him. He grinned almost shyly and those that knew him, knew that he actually felt humbled by the military response to him, so this was no exception. Things in the world were not great and animosity at home was prevalent. It was common for the American people to blame the President, even when there was nothing he could have done to remedy a situation. The good news for an American President though, was that most people in the military usually had a different view of things, and for that he would always be grateful.

The music had ended, but the President hesitated, waiting for the noise to get to a level where he would be heard. It was another minute before he began to speak.

"Thank you for your welcome and for your attention while your superiors outlined the vision, and what will be the ultimate outcome for this mountain complex. The history lesson was invaluable to me, but I'm sure you already knew all about the structural specifications of blast doors and underground ventilation systems," he quipped with a big smile. The crowd laughed and then clapped intermittently before he continued.

"In my many years of political service, I've met with the women and men in uniform around the world. I served in the Air Force," and the crowd cheered loudly again. Speaking from his heart**,** he went on to tell them a couple of short stories about his time in uniform, and then went on to tell them just how valuable they were to national security. He didn't completely reiterate the previous dialogue about the future, but he did want them to know that shifting day to day operations from the mountain complex to Peterson Air Force Base was about an evolving Air Force, and did not diminish their contributions in any way.

"I continue to be amazed by the courage, dedication, commitment and patriotism displayed by all our troops, and I am humbled that it is you that remain our symbols of pride and strength of this nation. The missions have changed throughout the years at this facility and others worldwide, but our nation's core mission has not changed, and it will not change. You and others have saved our collective red, white and blue behinds." He waited for the applause to die down, and was glad he had included that colorful reference as another 20-30 seconds passed. Finally he got an opening. "You've saved our behinds and I know you will save them again in the future. We are the strongest nation on earth and we will continue to be on the leading edge of the sword that defends our freedoms and way of life from any and all adversaries."

He let them clap and cheer; they were, after all, congratulating themselves, and he was fine with that because he knew they each deserved much more. The noise abated just a bit. He smiled broadly, dipped his head slightly and sincerely told them, "Thank you for your service. Thank you for your dedication." He had planned on more thank yous, but he crowd reacted, bursting into clapping, cheering and shouting. and anyone who hadn't already stood up was suddenly on their feet, including the civilian politicians. President Hayes stepped away from the microphone, and the protocol officer stepped up and delivered an announcement about refreshments. NORAD's three commanding officers and senior enlisted man approached the President where handshakes were exchanged before the group moved off the stage toward the receiving line.

Commanders from Colorado military bases - Schreiver, Fort Carson, Peterson, Lowry and Buckley were first in line, followed by commanders from Air Force bases in Kansas, New Mexico, Utah, Wyoming and Oklahoma. The politicians were next. The President greeted the governor, along with two senators, seven representatives, the Colorado Springs mayor and city council, and all the politico support staff. All of them, even the junior staff aides, seemed to think they were entitled to their own special time and not just a handshake. Finally after a photo op the politicians moved on, and surrounded by secret service the President's party headed to the main corridor. They wouldn't be staying for refreshments or for the Colorado version of the capitol hill two step. The group was halfway to the elevator junction when Mantley noticed they had picked up an additional five people who wouldn't be going downstairs with them. He quickly singled out an SF, whispering instructions to him. Letting the President, Hammond and the others move a few steps ahead, Mantley turned to the unexpected and uninvited folks.

"Lady and gentlemen, the President has concluded his official visit."

He didn't get another word out , before the Peterson Base Commander petulantly spoke up. "Where's the President going... Sir?"

If looks could kill then the commander would be sprawled dead on the floor at Mantley's feet. The Chief of Staff needed to be cautious because of the civilians, but he also needed to slap down the Brigadier.

"General, I'd like you to take these folks back to the reception and then meet me on three." He looked pointedly at the Brigadier before noticing the return of the SF accompanied by the NORAD liaison officer. Deciding everything was under control, Mantley headed for the elevator so he could go down to three and secure a room. A soundproof room.

As he spoke to the civilians, the liaison officer noted the General leaving. "The reception is available for about another 30 minutes. In 10 minutes or so I can have your cars and drivers waiting outside the main north portal entrance." Seeing the confused looks from the four civilians in the group, he quickly clarified, "The door you came in," and added, "We'll let you know when."

"What if I want to leave now?" The man asking the question wore large, horn-rimmed glasses, and had arrived at the mountain with the senior Colorado Senator's group.

Glancing at several SFs standing nearby, the liaison officer tried again. "The official visit has ended. Please return to to the reception hall, and we will announce when it's possible for you depart."

Another man with little chiclet* teeth spoke up. "I heard that this mountain complex houses something else. I want to know what it is, and I want to see it."

"I'm sorry, Sir, that is not possible." His look implored the SFs to help, though he had no idea what he wanted them to do. They sure didn't need a problem, especially one that could make it into the press. Just when he was seriously worried, Mantley came back around the corner, and walked towards them. The liaison officer breathed a sigh of relief, because he hadn't been sure of what to do, but surely the Air Force Chief of Staff would.

Smiling affably, the four star General greeted the group. "Hello folks. Come on back to the reception and I'll be glad to tell you about this mountain's other command, Deep Space radar Telemetry."

"I don't want to hear about it, I want to see it," a snarky civilian with a bad toupee emphatically told him.

Ever the diplomat with civilians, Mantley smiled. It was past time to nip this in the bud. "That's not possible. The area is very restricted. As you saw, even the President's group is kept quite small."

Chiclet mouth barked sarcastically, "He had a civilian with him. That follically challenged guy in the suit."

Mantley felt like decking the idiot, but instead he replied, "The man you are referring to, and none too kindly I might add, is a retired Air Force general and special adviser to President Hayes." The man seemed to swallow his ire, probably after wondering if he could get into trouble for insulting the bald guy. Mantley pushed ahead. "Keeping the visiting group small has something to do with too many people causing an increase in static electricity. It's not good for the sensitive equipment." He relaxed a little when it looked like three of four civilians had bought it, and he moved past them on his way back to the reception. "Now come on back, and I'll tell you about it. Or better yet, I'll find a scientist who can explain it all much better than I can."

Thankfully they all followed him like he was the pied piper. The SFs had kept other personnel out of the corridor, so it was empty as the group made their way back. When the door closed behind them, none of the unauthorized people were aware of detained SGC personnel leaving through an adjacent door into the same corridor.

Mitchell and Carter, along with many other SGC personnel hung around long enough for their departure to not be obvious, before they made their way to the corridor that would take them to the elevator. They'd only gone about 10 feet when two SFs stopped them, quietly instructing they return to the reception where they should stay close to the adjacent door. Mitchell and Carter both started to protest, until one of the SFs told them quite frankly, "Sir, Ma'am, there are unauthorized civilians in the corridor." Then he whispered, "You will have to wait for them to get out of there, before you can get to the elevator and go downstairs."

Finally understanding the delay, the two SGC officers actually looked a little bit embarrassed for not finding out what was going on, before reacting the way they did. It was only another minute or so when the door opened and the same SF told them the corridor was clear, but they hadn't gone very far when Carter was called back.

"Colonel Carter, General Mantley wants to see you," the SF urgently explained. "He's waiting for you by the large table next to the stage."

She looked at Mitchell, kind of shrugged her shoulders, and headed back into the reception area. Mitchell waited, trying to decide what he should do, and finally concluded that he would wait for her inside.

*~*~*~*~*~*

General Hank Landry was in his office when he became aware of the time, so he wasn't startled when the phone suddenly rang. He listened for a full minute as the person on the other end gave him some kind of report, before he replied, "Escort to quarters, and please remind President Hayes I said no detours."

He gave his dismissing comment and then quickly dialed his head of security. They spoke briefly about what had happened upstairs, and how General Mantley was handling the somewhat delicate situation. Thank goodness the only civilians coming to his base were authorized to be with the President. He hung up the phone and started to relax… just a smidgen. He knew the SGC was sealed, additional SFs were in place, and the guests were on their way to quarters. The phone rang again a few minutes later and after he thanked the person on the other end, he called Jack to tell him that the President had arrived on time. Then after putting on and straightening his jacket, Landry quickly left his office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

On sub level 16, the auxiliary security station was busy. Keeping track of everyone and everything meant three people never had a dull duty shift especially when the President, Sec Def , Secretary of the Air Force and Air Force Chief of Staff were visiting, all at the same time. The initial SGC reception was scheduled to begin in less than an hour and so far everything else had proceeded like clockwork. All except one of the guests to the NORAD celebration had been expelled from the mountain on schedule, but it was only a few minutes later when the last guest went out the door and General Mantley, who had been upstairs finally came down. Captain Guernsey worked through his duty shift, confident that everything would proceed as planned. He vowed that during the next restroom break he would check on a couple of things, just to make sure.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Mitchell sarcastically quipped, "Well that was fun," as the elevator descended to the lower levels of the SGC.

Carter smiled, but didn't say anything. She knew Mitchell wasn't just referring to the speeches and reception, but the science lesson as well. The four others in the car, all enlisted didn't speak either.

Mitchell was undeterred. "We should have had cake. Then we could compare it to ours later,"

His proclamation made everyone chuckle, and he smiled broadly as the elevator came to a stop. They all disembarked and went their separate ways, with Carter and Mitchell heading for Daniel's domain. That's where they guessed they'd find him, and Teal'c and Vala too.

Three fifths of SG-1 were inside the archaeologist's office when the two Air Force officers came down the corridor and stopped just outside the door where they could see their teammates inside. Teal'c looked as stoic as ever, Vala was casually lounging in a chair and Daniel was seething.

"I don't get it. He's been here for over an hour and we still haven't seen him."

Vala grinned when she realized her friends and teammates had joined her and the boys. Mitchell and Carter gazed at them, noticing posture and facial expressions right away. Teal'c looked like… well, Teal'c. Vala looked amused and Daniel looked royally ticked. His arms were waving, with his hands gripping nothing except air, and his words were spoken harshly.

"I haven't talked to him in almost three weeks," Daniel bellowed. "He was here long enough to almost get me frozen..." Daniel's rant continued, while the others watched helplessly.

Mitchell whispered to Carter, "We should have had cake."

"I don't think it would have helped," Carter whispered back. Mitchell gave her an incredulous look because everybody knows cake makes everything better.

"Have any of you talked to him?" Daniel's question went unanswered, as he quickly forged ahead. "Because if you did and you didn't tell me you had talked to him..."

It wasn't obvious to Daniel, but the others glanced at each other, confirming that they either hadn't spoken to whomever Daniel was referring, or they didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

Carter whispered to Vala, "Is that the jacket you bought last week when we went shopping?"

"Uh huh, do you like it?"

Daniel was still venting his feelings, not paying attention at all to the others.

Carter nodded, wondering where Vala got the fabric sequin kit to decorate the garment.

Mitchell whispered to Carter, "She bought the craft kit from somewhere advertised on television. Teal'c showed her how and she had it delivered to my place."

Carter just smiled at Vala's creativity.... and her gall. Then she felt the pang of hurt feelings when she wondered why it hadn't been delivered to her house. She would have been glad to help Vala.

Teal'c had overheard the whispers and felt Carter's misplaced distress. In a hushed murmur he told her, "Vala Mal Doran wished to surprise you."

Carter smiled at her teammates, understanding why they did what they did, and then looked at Daniel, who was still ranting. By now everyone knew Daniel was venting about O'Neill, but they didn't say anything.

"He shows up today and I find out that he wasn't up in NORAD with the President. He's been down here for hours. HOURS." Daniel's hands were moving wildly in front of him. All of them knew it hadn't been hours, but kept silent about the actual time. Everyone except Teal'c, who had had enough.

"Enough Daniel Jackson. It has not been hours."

"I'm sure he'll have time to talk to us…you" Carter added, mumbling softly, "eventually." She winced at her pathetic attempt. Her words were meant to reassure the linguist, but that didn't happen. Thankfully Teal'c wasn't finished.

"I do not believe your anger is solely about O'Neill," Teal'c offered, his head slightly cocked.

Daniel looked defiantly at his friend before finally nodding. "What are we doing here except wasting time? We should be looking for a way to defeat the Ori army." And on he went from there. The others waited patiently, knowing that eventually he had to run out of steam, which would definitely happen before he ran out of opinions, and the words to express them. He went on about the Ori, Ba'al and the Wraith, and about the SG teams being recalled. In that way he was right. All missions were on hold, but the threats were real.

When Daniel stopped a minute later, it was Vala who spoke, but not to Daniel. "So you two, you saw your President." Smiling she then not so innocently asked, "What color is he wearing?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

The President was in his special VIP suite, while the SecDef, the Secretary of the Air Force and General Mantley were in VIP rooms nearby. General Hammond was in a room just down from Jack, and other VIPs were located in various rooms throughout the lower levels of the facility. The President's personal aide knocked on the door of the special suite. He listened and then opened the door to the suite of rooms announcing, "Mr President, General Landry is here." Waiting only for a look from his boss, he stepped back to the corridor and indicated for the visitor to come with him.

"General Landry, please come in and sit down," President Hayes beckoned as the agent standing just inside the door exited, closing the door behind him. The room was brightly lit and appeared to meet the needs of the President just fine. After all, Stargate Command was a military base, not a fancy hotel, and the man wasn't going to be there for very long.

"Thank you, Mr. President," Landry responded, but he did not sit down. He shouldn't have been surprised that the President wasn't surprised to see him, but somehow he was... a little bit, and wondering if he should have waited to be summoned. The President was in an adjoining room so Hank hung back near the door waiting patiently. He wouldn't be sitting down anywhere until the President sat down, even though he'd been told that he could.

"I'm glad you stopped by, it's great to see you" the President offered as he came through the door. Landry was already at attention, but stiffened further, squaring his shoulders.

The President casually walked over and offered his hand. They shook hands and Hayes gestured for him to sit. Hank chose a chair while the other man relaxed on the sofa, his arm resting on a solid colored blue pillow.

"I enjoyed this room arrangement the last time I was here," he smiled, rubbing his hand on the cushion. "I hope my being here is not too much of an inconvenience."

Landry couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. Of course his visit was inconvenient, but nobody in their right mind would ever acknowledge it. "I imagine it's more of one for you, and your staff, Sir."

"Oh not at all. Well, not for me, can't speak for them," he chuckled. "I spend so many days and nights without any kind of privacy that being here is almost a vacation." Chuckling he added, "Even in the residence I'm always being interrupted." He paused, thinking about something, perhaps how to phrase his next statements.

"I do almost nothing by myself, or for myself. It's eerie. I don't even have a credit card to personally order flowers for my wife. A secretary does it for me," he continued, coolly looking right into Hank's eyes. "I haven't made a personal call by myself since I took office." He smiled wryly. "I guess a person has to dial 9 for an outside line, but you couldn't prove it by me." He shifted his position on the sofa and crossed his leg.

"I have a white house chief of staff and several aides who insist on trying to handle me. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy being President, most of the time anyway, but I'm sure I'd like it a lot more if it wasn't so....... political," he mused. The smile returned and his eyes sparkled. Both men laughed openly and Hank was suddenly very comfortable. He now understood a little better why both Jack O'Neill and George Hammond liked this man. They spoke for several minutes about family and service, and then, as if on a cue, Hayes changed the subject. "Everyone is very pleased with the job you've been doing here." He noticed Landry relaxing just a little.

Feeling as though he should respond, Hank said, "Thank you, Mr. President. This command has certainly had its challenges. I appreciate your compliment, and your confidence." He looked right into the man's eyes and said, "The groundwork laid by Generals Hammond and O'Neill paved the way for me to be successful, Mr. President. And the truly amazing officers and enlisted, as well as civilian scientists who work here."

Hayes rubbed his chin and looked thoughtfully at the General before continuing. "I know what you mean about the people who work for you, Hank, but I think you have a lot to do with it. Certainly running this place is far from easy. I give credit, a whole lot of credit to Generals Hammond and O'Neill. Both were instrumental in getting us to where we are today, but the continuing day to day operation right now, with all of its successes is because of you."

Hank beamed and changed his position in the chair where he sat, actually amazed that the President was devoting so much time to a personal conversation.

"Failures too, Sir." Both men nodded solemnly, knowing things didn't always go well or have expected outcomes.

The President continued, "I think you deserve enormous credit, especially with the Ori and the Goa'uld Ba'al...." he chuckled, then added, "mucking up things." Both men understood the seriousness of it all too well. They chatted for a just a few minutes longer, and then as if a hidden bird had jumped out and cuckoo-ed, the President stood up. And as quickly as he could recover from the surprise, Hank stood up too. The conversation was over. Just like that.

"Good talking to you, General. I'm looking forward to the show and tell." The President shook Landry's hand saying, "I'll see you again in a little while." Then he was through the adjoining door before Landry could form a reply. Even though the man wouldn't hear him, the SGC commander spoke into the air, "Thank you, Mr. President."

With a big grin, Landry checked his watch. The meeting had lasted six minutes. Almost exactly six minutes. Still grinning, he went to the outside door and pulled it open. The closest secret service agent turned, acknowledged him**,** and just like that the General was out the door, down the hall, into the elevator and back in his office. Still slightly smiling, Hank retrieved a file from his computer and printed it, waiting the few seconds for the printer to spit out the pages. He left one copy on his desk, another he deposited in the basket on his aide's desk, and the last one he inserted into a folder. He then notified the duty officer, and made his way to his on-base quarters. A few minutes later with the folder in hand, he proceeded to the elevator for the short ride to level 25.

The SFs along the way all straightened up as he approached and then passed by them. He glanced at each one, acknowledging them, but not speaking. They men and women looked in top form and ready for the days activities. Finally he got to his destination and gently knocked. Jack O'Neill was standing in the bathroom when he heard the knock and quickly went to open the door. Hank looked surprised when the door was opened by Jack in a white round neck t-shirt wearing shaving cream on half of his face. Jack smiled and Hank returned it.

"Come on in, Hank, I'm just finishing up," O'Neill invited his friend into the room as he headed back to the bathroom. "Take a seat, get comfortable," he invited.

"Thanks Jack, sure you don't mind?" He moved to sit in a chair across the room, out of direct sight of the mirror through the still open door of the bathroom.

"Not at all, I'm just clearing the stubble. My whiskers are on eastern standard time," he joked, rinsing the razor under the water collected in the sink. "I shaved at 3AM so I guess I'll shave three times today instead of just twice."

It was only another couple of minutes before Jack emerged from the bathroom. He was freshly shaved, washed, coiffed, brushed and gargled, and looked like he would getting ready for work on any normal morning.

Jack went to the open closet, and was busy putting on a shirt when he asked, "Did you have a nice chat with President Hayes?" Emphasizing the word chat, he half turned, grinning, his eyes sparkling as he smoothed the shirt collar and started buttoning.

Landry's eyes narrowed slightly. "As a matter of fact, I did, kinda surprisingly," Hank admitted, suddenly taken aback by Jack seeming to know everything.

"He's pretty down to earth," Jack commented, tucking in the shirt and zipping his fly, his back to Hank. Remembering his own meetings with the man, he asked, "I'll guess... uh... five minutes?"

Understanding immediately, Hank cracked up laughing. "Six actually." He had to know so he had to ask. "And just how did you know I was in his quarters?"

"He asked me if I thought you'd show up or if he'd need to call you. I of course told him you'd be there with bells on, as soon as he and the base were secure. Calling was not required," Jack told him with his eyes twinkling.

Hank grinned, "I had security notify me when he'd had a few minutes to get settled, and then I just showed up." He looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "He wasn't at all surprised to see me."

The men shared a knowing look as well as the moment until Jack reached for his tie. "I think he's all right. As much as a politician can be……I think," Jack added, chuckling softly at his own phraseology. "He let me and Hammond pick you…that's something." He looked at Landry a little more seriously. "The President is walking a tight rope between all the people who know about this place, and that's in addition to everything else he has on his plate day in and day out. I think he's doing all right... all things considered." His eyebrows went up, his mouth formed a wry grin and he added, "And he hasn't fired me... yet."

Landry smiled, understanding his friend's humor. That Jack hadn't been fired was not a surprise to the Stargate CO.

Jack finished with his tie and plucked his coat from the hangar, briefly examining it from all sides before smirking, "I wish these events could be more casual. BDUs would be good."

"Maybe the room will be hot and we can take off our jackets," Landry offered hopefully, but knowing that the thermostat would keep the room comfortable.

"Now that sounds like a plan," Jack mused as he adjusted the jacket over his shirt. He approached the full length mirror and deciding he was presentable, turned to Hank. "Guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he proclaimed, rocking back on his heels.

Hank stood and offered the folder that he had brought with him. Jack took it, opened it, scanned his eyes quickly down the freshly printed paper and nodded his thanks. He moved to the dresser and retrieved the security document from earlier, placing it in the folder with the newly printed list. He then put the folder back into the top drawer of the dresser.

"I suppose I better get going. I want to see for myself that everything is ready," Hank declared.

Jack concluded, "I'm sure Hammond is ready to go. We'll only be about 15 minutes early if we go now too."

Jack opened the door from his room to the corridor and allowed Hank to exit first. The two men walked three doors down before stopping to knock.

George Hammond opened the door, smiling at the two men standing before him. "My escorts are here," he quipped cheerfully. "Good to see you Hank. Hello Jack."

"Nice to see you, General," Landry drawled, smiling widely. He really liked this man and was very happy he was here for this get together. "We're going early so I can check on things."

Jack and Hammond exchanged looks and small smiles, no other words were necessary,because they would have done the same thing. Jack and Hank moved back and to the side, allowing Hammond sufficient room to step out into the corridor and close the door to his room behind him. Then as the three men headed for the elevator, Hammond casually asked, "So Hank, did President Hayes have anything enlightening to say during your private conversation?"

Landry's eyes went wide as he and Hammond locked their gaze, settling into a side by side walk with Jack just behind them. Landry was surprised again that someone knew he'd spent time with the President. Thinking about it for a few seconds though, he was reminded to not be surprised by anything at all having to do with George Hammond or Jack O'Neill.

"Yes sir, I enjoyed the few... minutes... uh... very much," Landry stumbled on his words a bit as they walked down the corridor.

Hammond asked hopefully, "What was it, about seven minutes?"

Asked the same question again and knowing something was up, Landry half choked, turned it into a cough and sputtered, "Six."

Hammond turned his head to look back to O'Neill, who was a few feet behind them. "Jack?"

Opening his arms wide, O'Neill admitted, "I guessed five, Sir."

Hammond slowly shook his head and chuckling said, "Well, you get to keep your money."

Landry was momentarily flabbergasted until he almost gave himself an invisible head slap. "You two bet on how long the meeting would last?"

Hammond and O'Neill laughed out loud. "Ya sure you betcha," Jack crooned for them both. "Next time we'll have to guess to the quarter minute or even exact seconds for a better chance at determining a winner."

"Or we specify the guess has to be equal to or less than the actual," Hammond suggested lightly. He remembered his own guess was high so he added, "Or more."

O'Neill quipped, "I can see an SF posted outside the door with a stopwatch clutched in his hand," and the other two men laughed out loud.

Hammond and Landry were still chuckling when they entered the elevator, but had composed themselves by the time the elevator came to a stop and the three men disembarked. Hammond and Landry first, walking side by side with Jack following reluctantly behind.

As he walked down the corridor with Landry, Hammond called back to his friend, "You coming Jack? You're not getting out of this you know."

Jack hadn't wanted Hammond to know he was actually looking forward to the reception, so he had fallen behind, but his long stride had him even with Hammond and Landry in only two or three steps, and the three men turned the corner walking side by side.

*~*~*~*~*

"Why are we ready so early?" Daniel asked, his patience already tested after his earlier outbursts. He absently smoothed his coat; no wrinkles, no lint, no fuzz.

"I don't know, it just happened. I don't want to be first to arrive so we better just get comfortable and wait for a few more minutes," Mitchell announced. The five members of SG-1 were in various states of relaxation in the office, and a few moments passed before Vala asked Daniel, "Are you feeling any better about the general?"

"Which general?" he snarled. "We have three of them."

"Daniel, you know which one, and we have four," Carter smirked, rolling her eyes. "At least."

"Yeah," Daniel grudgingly admitted. "I miss Jack, but I don't think he misses me........ us." Nobody missed the slip.

Carter was careful not to make the same mistake. "Daniel, you know he cares about us. That hasn't changed."

The angry archaeologist nodded, but didn't reply before going back to absently rubbing his hand on the fabric of his sleeve.

Feeling feisty, Vala asked, "How much time until we go?" She leaned down very close, trying to see Daniel's watch.

"Soon," he replied, after confirming the time. "You think we can actually talk to Jack at this thing?"

All four opened their mouths to respond, but it was Vala who voiced her opinion first.

"Certainly Daniel. We're SG-1, we can talk to anybody." She smiled at the amused faces around her.

Mitchell couldn't resist adding, "I understand it's going to be pretty informal, after the many speeches and remarks of course."

"Speeches - oh goody, goody," Daniel groaned hanging his head.

"Cake Daniel," Vala tried to pacify him. Softly cooing she said, "There's going to be lots of cake."

Daniel didn't look up. He didn't want anyone to see the scowl on his face at the mention of cake. Eating cake and talking about eating cake was Jack's thing. Damn Jack. Daniel was still mad at him and the last thing he needed was a reminder.

Vala was looking at Daniel when Carter, Teal'c and Mitchell exchanged looks. Maybe they shouldn't say anything, but Mitchell just couldn't help himself when Jackson was being a jerk. He and Carter had skipped eating cake at the first reception, and now he was feeling snacky and snarky. Grinning widely he joked, "I wonder what kind of cake?"

TBC

* * *

Thanks very much for reviews and emails of all kinds. This story is better because of your input and Cole J - you too. Really appreciate your comments and advice in review and email. :)

Hey Daniel fans, it's just a story so please don't flame me too badly.


	12. Chapter 12

Previously in chapter 11 - It's almost time for the SGC reception where President Hayes will make an appearance.

**Chapter 12**

The three Generals walked past security forces who had straightened to attention along the way. Arriving at the corridor junction down from the reception room, they waited for secret service to admit them. It didn't take long, and soon Hammond and O'Neill stood off to the side of the room while Landry spoke with the SFs tasked with the job of maintaining security during the reception.

"You feeling a little better about having to go back to DC, Jack?" Hammond sympathized with Jack having to forgo his leave plans.

Jack nodded. "Yes, Sir. There is one thing I need you to do for me though, if you wouldn't mind." He glanced over toward Landry and the SFs before gazing onto Hammond's face as the older man nodded once. Jack didn't need a reply because he knew his friend would do anything for him. And what he planned to ask for was not anything outrageous. On the contrary, it was something very few people at Stargate Command would ever really know about him. Jack was sentimental. According to the man next to him a sentimental fool, who by his own admission, was one too.

"When you go to Fort Logan, will you get some roses from me?" He didn't have to say the name of the intended recipient. Hammond knew whom his friend was talking about.

His eyes soft with compassion, he replied, "Of course Jack, what color?"

Jack hadn't left anything at the grave in a while, but knew exactly what he wanted his friend to purchase. "Just a small bouquet of dark pink, light pink and white."

Hammond smiled because it was classic O'Neill. The man didn't do anything by accident and hadn't hesitated on the color selection, knowing exactly what he wanted and why. Dark pink roses were for gratitude, appreciation and thanks, light pink for gentleness and admiration, and white symbolized honor and reverence. Through the color of the roses he had revealed his devotion to Janet Fraiser: Mother, AF Major, Medical Doctor, friend and confidante.

Jack's mouth formed a small smile when he added, "And if they have tea roses, one or two would be good." He saw the understanding on Hammond's face and in his eyes. "Pink if possible. Even a nice yellow one would be great." Lilies represented lots of things too, good things, and he considered asking Hammond to get a couple if he couldn't get tea roses. Lilies were about innocence and they came to Jack's mind when he thought about Fraiser's death since she had been a noncombatant. The decision to send medical personnel into combat situations was always a difficult one and resulted in sleepless nights for every commander. Being in the Air Force certainly had some people believing she was not an innocent, but in Jack's world, she was.

The retired General smiled. "Consider it done." Jack reached for his wallet, but a look from Hammond stopped him. They would settle up later.

Hammond planned to put a tea rose or two in the bouquet he intended to leave at his wife's grave. She had known he'd never forget her, but nothing said it better than one of God's delicate and beautiful creations. Hammond shouldn't have been surprised that Jack knew that tea roses symbolized remembrance, or maybe he just hadn't anticipated it. His friend never ceased to amaze, not in the almost 10 years he'd known him, and not that day. He briefly wondered if Jack would be okay with lilies in case the florist didn't have tea roses.

"Two more agents just came in so I guess everything is about ready to start," Jack informed Hammond, effectively dropping flowers for official business, as he surveyed the room.

Hammond saw them too, and then Landry was walking towards them, pausing for only a couple of seconds to speak to one of the agents. The doors to the big reception room were still closed, but they would be opening soon, and SGC personnel cleared by secret service were already waiting in the corridor to gain entrance.

"The President will be ready to leave his quarters in eight minutes," Landry informed them. "Time to open the doors."

Hammond glanced at the watch on his right wrist and nodded slightly. Jack stayed silent, but moved with them to the dais where the podium was ready for the main guest of honor. The door to the room next door opened and the SecDef and SecAF walked through, followed by Major Paul Davis and the SGC public affairs officer, who headed right for the closed doors. After a look from Landry, he spoke to the SFs and the doors opened wide. Stargate personnel started filing in, arranging themselves in formation at the appropriate distance from the dais, in neat and tidy rows.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"C'mon guys, there's cake waiting for us." Mitchell headed for the door. The others must have agreed because without another word they followed him out of the office into the corridor.

A couple of minutes later they had been cleared by secret service and were shuffling behind a group of SGC personnel waiting to enter. The corridor cleared quickly and then they could see the layout of the room. Through the open door to the room next door they could see the long refreshment tables, as well as a dozen or so smaller square tables with chairs. They made their way past incomplete rows of people and the open slots filled in as people ahead of them stepped into line. Soon the group of five was at the front where part of the first row was still available.

Teal'c moved in first next to SG-2, followed by Vala, Daniel, Carter and finally Mitchell on the end. They had an unobstructed view of the dais and could see O'Neill, Hammond, Landry, the SecDef and SecAF standing in front of chairs which were in front of the numerous flags. The American flag was first and foremost and always on display somewhere at the base, just like every other military installation. The Presidential flag had been brought in and was in a prominent place on the dais, denoting the presence of the Commander-in-Chief. Next to it were the US Air Force departmental flag and individual flags for the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of the Air Force and Chief of Staff of the Air Force. Hammond's personal colors were on display, as well as a two star general officer flag since Jack was participating in the event. And since Landry's command was hosting the event, his personal colors had been moved from sub level 27 to the reception room.

The public affairs officer and Davis were close to the door and moved back when two agents stepped into the room. They moved to the side and Air Force Chief of Staff Mantley came through the door. All of the military personnel in the room immediately faced the podium, their heels sliding and clicking before they all stood at attention.

After a few seconds the civilians figured out that something was going on, stopped talking and looked around curiously. As soon as there was silence, they heard the announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, our Commander-in-Chief, the President of the United States." President Henry Hayes breezed through the door and walked quickly to the podium decorated with the Presidential Seal. Two more SFs appeared, along with two more men in suits who looked a little agitated. Clearly secret service didn't like receptions like this one.

The President's entrance ignited clapping and a couple of cheers from the civilians, but the military personnel stayed at attention. If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a slight scowl on Mitchell's face as he couldn't help thinking, 'dang civilians'. Then they all heard, "At ease," and everyone relaxed just a little, but remained at parade rest. The Generals and others had chairs, but elected to remain standing. It was not going to be a long speech and then the meet and greet would consist of milling and refreshments for about half an hour.

"Thank you all. And thank you, General Landry for making me," and he went on to name everyone else, "feel welcome, especially since it means increased scrutiny and a lock down of this facility. I promise to make all that up you…someday." A few people in the crowd chuckled softly. He quipped about the NORAD affair, addressing those who hadn't been upstairs, and then turned the speech back to his current audience.

"I'm here today at Stargate Command to commend each of you for continued outstanding service to me, your commanders and the American people, as well as all residents of Earth. Several years ago we would not have included the entire planet in this praise, but as you well know, things change." He went on to recap some of the things that had happened since the last time he had been at the base, which received clapping and a couple of whistles. He spoke a little about things going on in the world and the role the military continues to play in protecting America, and the role of Stargate Command in also protecting the planet.

"All of us are looking forward to your presentations about what's been going on around here. Now, I told you change is one of the reasons I'm here. Let me tell you all a little bit about Lieutenant General George Hammond," invited Hayes, who was flanked by the SecDef and SecAF.

He went on to reveal a bit of their history serving together when they had both been a lot younger. He told them about Hammond taking command of the SGC and the then newly formed Homeworld Security, and about him serving in a civilian capacity since his retirement from the Air Force. He talked about his accomplishments, and highlighted a few events from each position before explaining about perils of awarding civilian decorations in secret. Then he apologized for not being able to give Hammond a truckload of medals.

Hammond just smiled shyly, sharing a look with Jack. Neither man cared about medals, decorations or awards, but there was something else going on and Hammond couldn't put his finger on it. The President finished by talking about honor and some other attributes that the bald man didn't pay attention to, and then it happened. The one thing about his retirement that could bring a lump to his throat.

"There's one more thing to do before I join you for cake, which I've been told is around here somewhere." His eyes went straight to O'Neill, and then to Hammond who was grinning with satisfaction. "Jack?" O'Neill's love of cake was not a state secret and the mention of his name was followed by cheering and thundering applause. The President gave Jack a meaningful look and a nod before he stepped away from the podium to stand a short distance away at the front edge of the stage where the SecDef and SecAF joined him. The crowd stopped clapping and looked at the President before having their attention drawn to their former commander.

In true O'Neill form, Jack stepped forward, executed a perfect left face and marched. Mantley and Landry did the same thing and followed behind him, leaving Hammond like an island facing the assembled personnel. They joined the President and others who were all turned facing Hammond. The retired general wasn't grinning anymore**, **and being unsure of what to do and slightly embarrassed, he just looked at them. The SGC military personnel were still basically at parade rest, but that changed immediately when they heard, "ah, TEN HUT." Even a few of the civilians straightened up.

O'Neill saw the look on Hammond's face change from slight confusion to complete understanding as his ears blushed red and then he publicly confessed. "General Hammond, there are no words to express how we feel about you, or how much we're all going to miss you." Jack squared his shoulders and with his eyes on Hammond's face, ordered, "Squadron, present arms."

With a pesky lump in his throat, Hammond saw O'Neill's eyes before he stared at the sea of blue with a little khaki green mixed in. Every person in uniform, Air Force and Marine was saluting him, including Generals O'Neill, Landry and Mantley. The SecDef and SecAF, both ex-military were also saluting. The only ones not saluting were President Hayes... and the secret service agents of course. Hayes could have saluted since Hammond was retired and they were both civilians, but Hayes had been told by O'Neill that Hammond wouldn't feel right about receiving a salute from his Commander-in-Chief. Even his ex-Commander-in-Chief. In the front row, Teal'c had drawn up his arm to hold his fist over his heart in a Jaffa salute, and Vala, wanting to give a salute of her own actually held the pose of a Cub Scout with two fingers perched just above her right eyebrow.

Daniel stood tall, understanding that what was happening honored Hammond far more than a speech, money, riches or any medals ever could. It had taken him a lot of years to learn that. For a brief moment he remembered lurking in the control room when Jack left the planet after supposedly being forced to retire in disgrace. Hammond had saluted Jack, even called him Colonel, and everyone else in the gate room had followed along and saluted too. Daniel reigned in his anger from those days because he was already feeling enough of it. The reception would start soon and he planned to confront Jack, but for the moment he concentrated on Hammond, and for only an instant saw raw emotion on the man's face.

With every eye in the room on him, Hammond quickly steeled his emotions and returned a perfectly executed salute, which he held for a count of one-two before lowering his arm, and then everyone else lowered theirs. With a short nod and a huge satisfied smile, the President left the stage area and went out the same door he had come in. The other VIPs, including Hammond filed out too, leaving the military personnel at attention, though most were smiling. Landry was the last one out and dismissed them all to the reception.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Everyone was milling around waiting for the President and others to come and mingle with them. After only a couple of minutes it seemed most had gravitated into small groups with SG team members together, scientists together, officers with officers and enlisted with enlisted. This facility was no different than most institutions where there were classes, cliques and bonds, which sometimes had very little to do with friendship.

At the front of the room, Generals Hammond, Landry and Mantley shared a private joke before walking over to stand next to O'Neill.

The men were all smiles and the conversation continued for another minute. Finally Mantley piped in with, "I understand the folks here were a little miffed when Jack got his second star in Washington."

Wondering where the man was going with that revelation, Jack looked at Hammond, who just smiled.

"Jack got his first star in Washington too, so him getting his third star here will be an excellent reason to come back, Mike," Hammond volunteered, happy to join in the tease-fest. The look on Jack's face was priceless.

The three Generals laughed before Mantley proclaimed, "Just be glad we didn't give you your third star today, Jack."

O'Neill perked up and stammered, "What?" He saw three smug faces looking at him, but he directed his gaze and confusion at just one; Mantley. "Sir?"

"Don't worry, Jack. You don't have to be concerned for a few more months."

Mantley was serious and O'Neill was more than surprised. He'd been a Brigadier for only a year when he'd gotten his second star. Now, less than two years later they were hinting that he would soon get his third star. He cocked his head slightly and thought about going from Colonel to Lieutenant General in about three years. Amused he asked, "Are you sure you all know what you're doing?"

Hammond, Landry and Mantley were all chuckling and didn't notice that the President, SecDef and SecAF had approached them.

"I can answer that," the President weighed in, looking at the surprised expressions on the faces of the four men**.** "The world is not ready to face what's out there without you, Jack." He let those words sink in briefly before amending his statement. "We're not ready to face what's out there without you. We're not ready to do it without George either, but even I have to admit he's earned his retirement, as limited as it may become."

The man smiled as he observed the looks between Jack and George. They were true friends and there was no way that Jack wasn't happy for the older General. O'Neill respected and admired General Hammond and was thrilled his friend and former CO had survived to retire – really retire. The kind of retirement that he deserved. Jack knew the day would come when they would all need George and they'd most certainly use him, but this would give the man a chance to spend more time with his family.

The SecDef decided to weigh in. "If I may, Mr. President?" Hayes nodded his okay.

"George should have been promoted long before he was. We didn't have anything to do with that, but we can make sure that we don't do the same thing with you." He paused for just a couple of seconds. "You think three promotions in about three years is pretty fast." The slight nod of his head and the look on his face indicated that O'Neill agreed with the statement. "It is a little fast I guess, but it's not without precedent, and it's certainly deserved."

Everyone mumbled their approval of the SecDef's statement, even Landry who probably wouldn't be promoted for a while, if ever. He was older than Jack, didn't want the Homeworld job, and was looking forward to retirement himself. Jack being promoted was fine with him. He and Jack were the same rank, but O'Neill had to deal with so much more crap than he did.

The secretary silently passed the invisible baton back to the President who didn't hesitate. "I think I can speak for all of us," he started, his gaze falling on each man's face for just a fraction of a second. The SecDef and Generals nodded agreement, but didn't reply to the President's statement. "This may sound too simple or it may sound trite, but it's with sincerest intent that I say we need you, and we're going to keep you around for a while." Hayes smiled and extended his hand to O'Neill, who took it warmly and returned the smile, his eyes meeting those of each man in turn.

It still surprised O'Neill that this group of men could have such faith in him. In true Sally Field fashion his brain latched onto – they like me, they really like me - but his butchered misquoted version also included a cutting retort. Thankfully he was getting very good at holding his sarcasm, and said instead, "In that case, Mr. President, how about we eat some cake?" Everyone laughed out loud at O'Neill's comment, and with the President leading the way, they made their way to the long refreshment tables.

It was late morning and after refreshments the schedule called for a research presentation, a break for lunch, and then an afternoon of informative lectures and demonstrations. The facility would stay in lock down while the President had a late dinner meeting with the SecDef, SecAF, Mantley, Hammond, Landry and O'Neill. Then he'd be heading back to Peterson for the flight to California.

Daniel, Sam, Teal'c, Vala and Mitchell stood quietly during the speech and were still silent as the President conversed with the senior officers at the front of the room. They weren't too far away from the refreshment tables and while waiting Teal'c brought over cups of red punch for Sam and himself. The group waited patiently until finally Daniel couldn't contain himself any longer and blurted out, "Okay, what's the holdup?"

"I believe President Hayes has detained the others, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c observed. The others kept quiet when it looked like the group from the dais was finally going to make it into the crowd for some mingling.

Jack O'Neill was in line behind the President at the table and accepted a good sized slice of chocolate cake from his Commander-in-Chief when it was offered to him. The other generals were with them, but Hayes didn't offer them any before choosing a slice of his own.

"Thank you, Sir," Jack responded to the gesture. He balanced the cake in one hand while snagging a large cup of punch with the other. Needing a fork and a couple of napkins he headed for the end of the table and almost ran into Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman, who quickly handed both items to him. His eyes must have given it away or the man remembered something from their time serving together because he handed O'Neill a second napkin.

"Thank you, Sergeant, it's good to see you," Jack addressed the shorter man as he slid the napkins under the plate and put the fork in his pocket. He hadn't really called him Walter since leaving the SGC.

"You too, Sir," Walter responded, smiling as he handed a napkin and fork to General Hammond, who was also smiling as he took them from him. The two men remained talking while Jack headed for a table in the corner opposite the doors. He'd seen SG-1 during the President's address, but hadn't spotted them yet at the reception, so he decided to let them find him.

"Sam, I'm going to talk to Jack," Daniel announced, already moving toward his friend at the other side of the room. He was angry with Jack and it was time to lay the cards on the table. As he swaggered across the room it never occurred to him that this might not be the best place to do just that.

Sam, Vala, Teal'c and Mitchell watched him go, and though none of them said anything, they were each apprehensive about what Daniel might do and say. He was on edge and they knew he was angry, but not one of them was willing to intercept his path – not even Vala. Instead they exchanged looks with each other and headed for the refreshment tables. General Hammond was still near there talking not only to Sergeant Harriman, but also to Sergeant Siler and Doctor Lam.

"Anybody think it's a little weird that the President gets his own cake?" Mitchell's question got a raised eyebrow from Teal'c and a laugh from Vala, who thought the whole affair was odd. Sam just smiled, thinking that perhaps Hayes was more ordinary than anyone thought a guy in his position would be. She was suddenly not apprehensive at all about her scheduled meeting the next week to tell him all the details about what happened in the alternate reality.

General Mantley had cake and punch and was heading for a table near Jack, while General Landry, the SecDef and President Hayes went to a table near the front of the room. Aides and secret service agents hovered nearby while the entire reception area was being monitored by more than two dozen SFs and many more in the corridors outside. Anyone paying minimal attention would see that they were constantly looking around, keeping watch and a silent vigil.

At his table Jack was visited by officers and enlisted alike, as well as civilians. He'd been well liked when he was SG-1's leader and also in the year he'd been base commander. The SGC had new faces, but most of the personnel at this reception were very familiar with both Jack and Hammond. A couple of SG-3 team members had just finished conversing with Jack when Daniel arrived at the table. He waited for them to walk away before standing directly in front of the table across from O'Neill.

"Hey Jack, long time no see," his words dripping with disdain.

Daniel watched as O'Neill took a bite of cake and then looked up to meet his eyes. Jack swallowed before speaking, but by then a civilian scientist was at the table, reaching out for Jack's hand and telling him good to see you, etc. Jack nodded, but didn't reply and looked again at Daniel while the other man moved away heading for the table with General Mantley and Major Davis.

"Hey Daniel, where's your cake?" The humor was in his voice and his twinkling eyes, but unfortunately the linguist was not in the mood. He stood with his arms wrapped around himself, hugging for all he was worth. Jack had seen him do that many times before and knew his friend was upset.

He'd gotten the message loud and clear. "Take a seat Daniel. Let's chat," he offered, sliding a chair out from the table hoping his friend would sit down on it.

TBC

Fort Logan in Denver has one of two National Cemeteries in the state of Colorado. In this story, Janet Fraiser and George Hammond's wife are buried there.

Sally Field won an Oscar for "Places in the Heart" in 1985 and her acceptance speech was..... different. You can find it on youtube.

Noncombatant is generally a civilian or a non fighting member of the armed forces. There are those who believe that wearing the uniform makes you a combatant, armed or not.

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Thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and everything else. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. I researched "saluting protocol" and tried to get it right. Feedback in reviews or emails is always welcomed and appreciated


	13. Chapter 13

I have had a few comments about using italics for flashbacks so I'm trying something different this time. -Okay, a review and four emails later and I have already submitted a revision for this chapter. You like italics, you don't like italics. You want a clearer division between the past and the present. You don't care, just want me to hurry and post chapter 14. Okay, hope the flashback part isn't too hard to follow and is easier on the eyes than italics. The next two chapters are waiting on my beta. If for some reason she can't get to them in a timely manner, I will go though them again pretending I didn't write them and then submit them. Sorry, lots of thems there. :)

I created some characters and named them. Any similarity to anyone alive or dead is purely coincidental. And as always, I own nothing.

* * *

Previously in chapter 12 - "Hey Jack, long time no see," his words and tone dripping with disdain. Daniel watched as O'Neill took a bite of cake and then looked up to meet his eyes. Jack swallowed before speaking, but by then a civilian scientist was at the table, reaching out for Jack's hand and telling him good to see you, etc. Jack nodded, but didn't reply and looked again at Daniel while the other man moved away heading for the table with General Mantley and Major Davis.

"Hey Daniel, where's your cake?" The humor was in his voice and his twinkling eyes, but unfortunately the linguist was not in the mood. He stood with his arms wrapped around himself, hugging for all he was worth. Jack had seen him do that many times before and knew his friend was upset.

He'd gotten the message loud and clear. "Take a seat Daniel. Let's chat," he offered, sliding a chair out from the table hoping his friend would sit down on it.

**Chapter 13**

Daniel hesitated, but after a few more moments he grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it closer to where he wanted it to be before plopping himself down. He was now sitting, his posture stiff and his arms still wrapped around his chest.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" Daniel's posture and body language screamed anger and stress, and Jack knew he needed to tread lightly. At least he'd been able to get him sitting. Now he just needed to get him talking. Jack knew this would be better in private, but that would mean waiting a few hours or even until the next day and he didn't want to do that. He did however want to give Daniel a choice.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me now. We can talk later," he offered, leaning forward a little to keep crumbs off his uniform while he enjoyed another bite of chocolate cake.

"How much later?" Daniel mumbled while not looking at anything except the table top.

Jack swallowed before stating bluntly, "Don't really know. I'm thinking after dinner tonight." He licked his lips and used his napkin before adding, "Or tomorrow morning." The truth was that he couldn't be absolutely positive when they could sit down together for a long meaningful discussion.

That information didn't sit well with the archaeologist, but surprisingly he didn't react in anger. Instead he placed his elbows on the table and turned his head to look at Jack. Both were seated with their backs to the wall so the entire room was in their line of sight where people were chatting, and some were moving from table to table and group to group.

Jack sipped his punch as he surveyed the room. He didn't put the cup down before turning his head to look right at Daniel. He didn't say anything, just observed his friend, waiting patiently for him to open up. He heard his friend release a deep sigh and hoped he'd start talking soon. Jack liked Daniel, but not his over eagerness and especially not his verbiage and often constant rambling. Finally Daniel opened his mouth, but what he said was far from what Jack was expecting.

"I guess we're not friends anymore," the younger man announced. Jack was shocked by that statement, but truth be told he wasn't completely taken by surprise. Daniel was known for his mood swings and the older man understood Daniel probably as well as anyone could. His friend was a mature responsible adult, but he was also an insecure child in a grown-up body.

"Of course we're still friends, Daniel," Jack began, "but knowing you the way I do, I can understand why you'd say that." Jack thought he knew what was on Daniel's mind. They hadn't talked in a while and it always bothered Daniel a lot more than it did him. This was not the first time that Daniel had questioned the status of their friendship. Other than when he went undercover, there was one other time that really stuck in Jack's memory.

*~*~*~*~*

_**Flashback**_-

Four and a half years before, Daniel had received a lethal dose of radiation. Janet Fraiser couldn't do anything for him and Jacob/Selmac attempted to use the healing device to save his life. With Oma waiting, Daniel had taken Jack out of time and asked him to let him go. Jack had honored Daniel's request and told Jacob to stop trying to heal the archaeologist. Daniel had flat lined and then ascended right in front of them.

A year later Daniel was back, having been deposited naked onto a planet that the SGC was exploring. After Ba'al fought off Anubis and Kelowna was saved, Jonas left Stargate Command and returned home. Daniel was returned to SG-1 though he still didn't remember everything from his life before.

"You let me die," Daniel accused Jack.

The Colonel flinched a little, but responded with equal passion. "No Daniel, I did not let you die." His eyes bored into the younger man's face. "I let you ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"What's the difference?" Daniel wasn't sure if he was angry or not. All he knew was that his friend had let him die. "I thought we were friends. I don't think friends give up on each other."

Jack explained. "I don't remember all of it, but I do know you were ready to move on to something else and ascending was your way of doing that."

"You told Jacob to stop healing me."

"Yes I did. Somehow you told me to get him to stop."

Daniel looked at the man, trying to decide if it could have really happened that way. He wanted to believe Jack, wanted to believe that he would have desired to ascend.

"You didn't know if you'd ever see me again."

"No, I didn't." He waited and when Daniel didn't respond he continued. "Daniel, sometimes when you care about someone you have to let them go. If it's meant to be, they'll come back." He gave Daniel a half smile and stated, "You came back."

The linguist still wasn't sure. "You didn't know that would happen."

"No, I didn't, but I believed in you."

The two men sat in silence for the longest time. "General Hammond let me see the infirmary security tape of it happening."

Jack cocked his head and admitted, "Not as good as the real thing, but cool."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed smiling. "Very cool."

- _**End of flashback.**_

*~*~*~*~*

The reception was going along with the SGC personnel meeting the President and other VIPs, but mainly enjoying seeing Hammond again. At their table, Daniel sat in silence for a long time as people approached, greeted Jack and then shook his hand before they wandered off to speak to someone else. When it looked like they might get a break of a minute, Daniel finally laid his palms on the table top and started rambling. Jack set his half full punch cup on the table and just sat back and listened.

"I suppose," pursing his lips before really getting going, "you can understand why I'd think maybe we're not friends anymore, but what I can't understand is how you can sit there and not think you should be doing something about it." Daniel hesitated, maybe waiting for Jack to respond. When he didn't, Daniel continued. "I'm not the one who was going to let a friend be frozen. I'm not the one who left." Daniel's palm hit the table kind of hard. "I'm not the one who hasn't been available for three weeks. I didn't leave. I'm not the one trying to end this friendship." He took a breath. "It seems like you can't be bothered with us….with me," the younger man huffed.

Jack watched Daniel pout and he really wanted to just grab him and shake him, but knew he couldn't do that. Seven or eight out of every ten times when something happened, Daniel found a way to turn and twist things around to make it about him and Jack wasn't going to stand for it this time.

"Daniel, I've only been gone three weeks and actually out of touch for only a few days. We were away on missions longer than that. I've been away fishing longer than that," he said just before another bite of cake disappeared into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. "You knew when I left the SGC that I was going to be in Washington. You knew that we would probably talk infrequently and would see each other only every once in a while." He waited a few moments to let that sink in and used the time to take a drink of punch. "As for three weeks ago, you knew the IOA was pissed at me and that I had to smooth things with the President and Joint Chiefs." He could see Daniel's brow furrow as he thought about those words. "You knew my time in DC would be work for me and very busy with everything going on," he paused and then delivered, "and you've been away on missions yourself."

"How do you know that?" Daniel asked looking perplexed.

"I read… a lot. I'm aware of every mission and every written report. I view every briefing video. I see every material requisition. I know how many packs are lost, how many MREs are eaten and if the canteen is serving more red Jello this month than last month. I know how many rolls of TP the SGC uses per month and how many rounds of ammo have gone through the gate, along with claymores, grenades and C4. I know about vaccinations, Band-Aids and aspirin. I know about injuries, illnesses, deaths and transfers."

He paused for his announcement to sink in hoping Daniel would figure it out. The archaeologist stared defiantly at the table top so Jack continued his tale, feeling that his friend hadn't really given him a choice. This time he made it more personal.

"I know what planets you've been to, who you were with, when you left, when you came back, what you brought with you, what equipment got left behind and what you had to report about it." Daniel still didn't respond though Jack was sure he'd heard and understood every word. "I know the cost and delivery date for the book you recently ordered." That did it. He watched Daniel's head snap up.

Stuttering and almost spitting, Daniel replied, "I…I... I never realized you were so nosy, Jack." Daniel knew someone besides Landry had to see his requisition and approve the funds, but he never imagined that it would be Jack.

That was it. Jack wasn't going to even try to hold back his glare. Daniel was going to get the facts about Jack's job.

"It's my _job_," he spat, pausing for effect. "It was my job to know everything about SG-1 and help Hammond. It was my job to be aware of everything at the SGC when I was commander. Now it's my job to know all of that and so much more that sometimes I think my brain will explode," he admitted, showing no sympathy for Daniel's opinion about him being nosy.

"I have to know everything about everything going on in at least two galaxies. I have to know about all things related to the Stargate, including Atlantis, Groom Lake, Area 51 and civilian defense contracts and contractors. I can tell you that reporting directly to the President and the Joint Chiefs has more than one major downside. A huge one is that they ask way too many questions and I have to have all the answers - all the right answers."

He waited, but Daniel didn't respond. "I'm in charge of disclosure if something precipitates it. I'll have to address Congress... and you know how much I love politicians." Jack saw Daniel's shoulders tense. He definitely had his attention. "If public disclosure happens on schedule, and God only knows when that will be, and I'm still alive, then I'm in charge of coordinating everything." Jack had been told by the President and Joint Chiefs that retirement wouldn't spare him from being on the leading edge of any disclosure presentation. His staff had already compiled profiles on all current and former Stargate personnel. They'd carefully edited the mission reports, making them acceptable for public dissemination. The families of those KIA and MIA were at the top of the list for notification right before the program would become public knowledge. A long list of overdue medals and commendations was ready. Jack knew if he lived to see disclosure, or in his words lived through disclosure, that most of his time would be spent in Congressional hearings - explaining all of it, justifying all of it, defending all of it - over and over again. He desperately wanted to be with Charlie before any of it happened.

Daniel lifted his head and brought his gaze to meet Jack's eyes. He was feeling just the smallest bit guilty for what he'd said, but Daniel had never been known for his apologies and especially not for the way he felt. And whether Jack liked it or not, Daniel was miffed at him and waiting for an apology of his own. He waited as long as he felt was necessary for his friend to reply and when he didn't, Jack forged ahead.

"I know we haven't talked much lately and I hope that can be resolved soon. You will still be going off world and I'll still be really busy, reading a lot and going to lots of meetings, so we'll just have to do the best we can."

Jack watched his friend relax a little, but he knew the man was still peeved. Daniel liked things Daniel's way and in some ways he was as immature as a ten year old. Knowing this and dealing with it were two different things. Wondering when he'd become so responsible and mature, Jack couldn't help but smile when he thought about how much more patient he was and how he'd learned to keep his mouth shut, at least most of the time. It wasn't fear of court martial or Leavenworth, it was being accountable for everything and everybody. It was a serious business with lives on the line every minute of every day.

"Guess you wish you'd retired…again, huh Jack?"

"No, not really." Jack sighed, "Okay maybe," he admitted. "But only when Woolsey or some other," he hesitated, debating whether to use idiot, moron or jerk, "IOA person shows up at my office or calls me on the phone." He left it there, not wanting to get into any of that with the younger man, and truthfully there was so much he couldn't talk about. That was something else Daniel had yet to accept. He didn't understand that because he was part of a very secret program that everything else - restricted, sensitive, classified, secret and top secret - was not available to him too.

On the other side of the coin was Jack's personal life. His privacy was important and Daniel always had the desire to know more than Jack was willing to tell. He'd already told the younger man much more than he had ever meant to tell him or anyone else at the base. Except Hammond anyway, and that man never tried to get him to talk about anything. Daniel on the other hand had always tried to push him into a sort of confession, a baring of his soul if you will. Jack was not one to expose his feelings or thoughts, something Daniel didn't always understand. He could tell Daniel was still upset, but maybe now they could talk about what was really bothering him. Sure enough, his friend opened up.

"You still haven't said you're sorry."

Jack visibly jerked, a small jerk, but definitely a jerk. "You're talking about when I agreed that you should go into stasis instead of being killed?" His blazing eyes were focused on the linguist's face.

Daniel might have felt Jack's gaze and he bit his lip before finally replying. "You were going to let them freeze me with no idea when I'd be thawed." His front teeth pressed onto his lower lip. "Without me on that mission there was no way the others would have gotten past Adria and delivered the weapon."

Okay, Jack got it now, but he was going to do this his own way. He quickly reviewed the main points. It didn't take long - there were only two. He wasn't sorry and Daniel wasn't seeing the big picture. Jack knew what he needed to do. He watched Daniel for several seconds and then started with, "I don't know if they could have delivered the weapon without you or not." He looked at his friend to make sure he was listening. "You admitted that Adria was onto you so maybe you just got lucky. There are worse things than luck, Daniel." He stayed away from the obvious. The weapon definitely wouldn't have been delivered without Jack ordering the shutdown of the gate. He wasn't going to say that and waited a few seconds before continuing. He knew his next statement might not be well received. At least not until he explained.

"I'm not sorry," Jack confessed. Direct. Short. The truth. The blunt truth. He saw Daniel's jaw clench and his shoulders twitch. A couple of people started to approach the table, but maybe sensed they shouldn't and walked on past. Jack waited a couple of seconds and then repeated, "I'm not sorry."

Daniel didn't move. Jack couldn't even tell if the man was breathing, except if he wasn't then he would surely have fallen to the floor. After enough time had passed, Jack announced, "I'm not sorry I did not let the IOA kill you." Daniel's head perked up. Was it the double negative that got his attention? Even with two nots, the sentence sounded okay to Jack. "They were going to, you know?" He watched for a reaction on Daniel's face. The jaw clenched again and his lips stayed tightly closed. Even worse than ordering Daniel killed was that none of the IOA members would have done it. They would have ordered someone else to do it. Even ordered, Jack doubted that anyone at the SGC would have summarily executed the archaeologist. Sanctioned or not, it would have to be someone who didn't know Daniel. Or someone from the NID. Most of those guys would have had no problem doing it.

Jack forged ahead with, "I'm not sorry I thought putting you into stasis was better than killing you." Daniel was listening now. "I'm not sorry you escaped, took the ship... and abducted me." Daniel's mouth curved into a small smile. "I'm not sorry Merlin is gone and you transformed back into yourself." Now there was a small grin on Daniel's face. "If you want an apology from me for not completely believing you, you'll be waiting a long time." He wasn't about to apologize for that. "C'mon Daniel, you looked like a Prior and for all I knew you were a Prior." Daniel dropped his head. "How could I take the chance?" The honest truth.

Daniel knew Jack was right and he shook his head, knowing that was as close to an apology as he was going to get. Jack was not sorry, not about any of it and he wasn't going to lie just to make Daniel feel better. He knew Jack was right, but it still hurt. Jack had been honest with him and he really couldn't expect more than that. They sat for a few minutes watching the people mingle and Jack finished his cake as he interacted with all those who came to the table. The large crowd had thinned considerably when he and Daniel became aware of Teal'c and Sam's approach. The pair had made the rounds of the room and decided it was time to talk to O'Neill and see what kind of mood Daniel was in.

It was the gentleman in him that made Jack stand when Samantha Carter was at attention in front of the table. He outranked her, but she was a woman and that took precedent in his world.

"At ease Carter, how are you?" His eyes sparkled and his smile was genuine as he watched her relax. She returned the smile. "Fine, Sir."

Jack addressed Teal'c. "T, how ya been?"

"Very well, O'Neill." His deep voice resonated and his eyes softened on Jack.

"How was the cake, General?" Carter asked, knowing the empty plate answered her question.

"Good. It was good." Jack smiled again. "You want to sit down?"

An SF appeared at the table, leaning down to speak softly to Jack before she could answer. Having not sat back down yet, Jack voiced a quick apology and walked away, leaving the three friends to look at his back and then at each other.

"O'Neill appears tired," Teal'c stated as he pulled out a chair while offering the now empty one to Carter. His speech was a lot less florid than in previous years.

"Yeah he does," she admitted. "Did you get things settled with him, Daniel?"

"Kind of I guess," he admitted. "I can tell he misses us, but he won't do anything about it." He softened his tone a little when he said, "He claims he's been really busy and he won't be getting any less busy in the future."

"I believe that to be true, Daniel Jackson. You do not?"

Teal'c looked at the younger man. He was sitting hunched over with his arms on the table top and staring at…well nothing. His glasses had slipped down on his nose and his eyebrows were bunched together wrinkling his forehead. Teal'c was adept at reading the man's moods and suspected that in Daniel's mind nothing with O'Neill had been resolved.

Jack went with the SF to the President's table and was not surprised to find General Hammond already there. The two men were talking softly and Jack waited until they'd seen him before he moved closer to the table. The SF along with another stood protectively while the secret service agents hovered.

"Mr. President, General, you wanted to see me," Jack spoke quietly.

"Yes Jack, thanks for coming over. I was talking to the President about the security concerns and wanted to confirm that you were on top of things." Hammond gave him a hopeful yet apologetic look.

"Yes sir," Jack confirmed, wondering why they needed to talk about this now.

"Hank says you got your access card," Hammond revealed.

O'Neill nodded. Gazing sharply at the men and lowering his voice he stated, "With respect Sirs, this venue is not secure."

President Hayes and General Hammond looked at each other and then back at O'Neill knowing he was right to be concerned. The situation required the highest security and need to know which so far only included Hayes, Hammond, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and O'Neill. Air Force Chief General Mantley had not been informed yet, nor had General Landry and the threat was about his base.

Sometimes it was necessary to severely limit the number of people knowing about a situation and the President was pulling the strings on this one. His security detail only knew what he chose to tell and he had the support of the SecDef, while the FBI and CIA chiefs had gag orders in place for their investigators. Homeworld issues required the highest US security level and most people with top secret security clearances still had no clue about the department or the Stargate. While the number of those informed was ever increasing, nobody talked to anyone who was not on 'the list,' the very short list, about anything at all related.

"I don't want to wait until tonight at dinner. We'll talk at lunch and get everyone else on board," Hayes decided and stood up. It was time for the reception to be ending anyway. Hammond and Jack immediately stood and simultaneously replied 'Yes, Mr President' before they excused themselves to inform the other generals as Hayes, flanked by secret service headed for the exit. Hammond went to Mantley and O'Neill crossed the room where Landry was talking with an SG team. On approach they spotted him and the four team members stiffened to attention.

"At ease," Jack told them then nodded to Landry, "General, a moment please."

The SG team moved off before Hank could walk away with Jack. The two men waited a few seconds and after making sure nobody was within hearing range, Jack told him about the lunch meeting. On seeing the President leave, several people were also leaving and the crowd had thinned considerably. Hank nodded and headed for the door while Jack walked to the table where Carter, Teal'c and Daniel were sitting. They'd been joined by Vala and Mitchell who had borrowed chairs from an adjacent table. The two Air Force officers started to get up when Jack got close.

"At you were," Jack said looking at Carter and Mitchell, who relaxed back into their chairs. "Ms Mal Doran," he started and she gave him an exasperated look, so he corrected it to, "Vala, Colonel Mitchell, good to see you."

"Sorry I didn't get over here to talk to you sooner, General. Looks like this party's about over," Mitchell announced, his gaze going around the emptying room.

"Yes it is," Jack told him, possibly a little too solemnly. "I have to go, but I wanted to come over to tell you that it was very good seeing all of you," and his eyes looked at each one with Daniel being last. "I hope we get a chance to talk while I'm here."

Carter watched as Daniel rose to his feet, looking like he was still struggling with his emotions.

"Jack, you said you'd have time tonight," he reminded O'Neill. He was pleased with himself for making the announcement to the others.

It was Daniel's tone that really got to Jack and not the fact that yes, he had said that. "I still might," he informed all of them, but looked at the archaeologist, his gaze revealing just a hint of annoyance. He could only conclude that their previous conversation had not pacified his friend.

Daniel couldn't bring himself to look back at Jack. Instead he turned first to Sam and then to Teal'c saying simply and perhaps in what he thought was a cryptic way, "I rest my case."

Nope, the man was still angry, but there wasn't anything Jack could do about it right then. He thought Daniel looked like he was pouting, but rather than pursue an argument with him, he merely restated his position with an apology about not being able to stay any longer. He then wished Sam, Vala, Teal'c and Mitchell, and finally Daniel a good day and left. He was several strides away before he heard Teal'c wish him the same.

Jack was out the door in just a few seconds having never heard another word from Daniel or the others. SG-1 watched him disappear into the corridor, the SFs coming to attention along his route. When he was gone it was Sam jumping to her feet confronting Daniel.

"Daniel, you want to tell us what that was all about?" Her look to him was one of dismay as she stood right in front of him and stared into his eyes.

He reacted by quickly looking at the floor or his shoes or somewhere other than at Sam. Mumbling he admitted, "I think I'm still mad at him." Daniel was feeling hurt more than angry, but at the moment he was having trouble separating the two.

"That is most apparent, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c boomed, louder than he meant to.

The meet and greet room was thankfully almost empty when Teal'c spoke, so few heard what he said to Daniel, but the group did get curious looks from a couple of people as they prepared to exit the room.

"Perhaps we should also vacate this area," he added, hoping the others would leave with him, but knowing he was going with or without them. Sam and Mitchell nodded and the four started for the door leaving Daniel sulking behind.

"SG-1's presentation is at 1:30PM, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c reminded him.

"See you after while, Daniel," Sam added. "Meet us for lunch if you feel like it."

"Don't be late, Jackson," Mitchell teased, not understanding the conflict between Jackson and O'Neill.

Jack had left the elevator and was headed for his quarters when he passed the stairwell. Hearing muted voices and wondering who it was, he climbed the steps to the landing between the floors. Looking up to the next level he saw a Lieutenant with a woman wearing a deep blue sea colored dress. They were groping each other, totally oblivious to anyone seeing them and by the time Jack got there the woman's dress was up around her waist. Her silk slip was pulled up almost as far and did little to hide the view of the panty in her pantyhose.

"Stand down, Lieutenant." Jack started climbing the next set of steps up to sub level 24.

"Oh f-off and get your own broad," the officer replied, his hands around the woman's backside. The woman's hands were rubbing his neck as she kissed him loudly, completely ignoring everything else.

Stepping onto the landing O'Neill barked in his best command voice, "STAND DOWN Lieutenant and get your hands back where they belong - NOW." The man stopped kissing, but didn't move his hands as he turned to see who was interrupting.

"What the hell do you want," he bellowed just as an SF came up the stairs from 25 and another opened the door behind the amorous couple. They moved fast enough to keep from being hit by the door, but it put the man very close to Jack, in fact nose to nose if their heights had been the same. Instead Jack was looking at the top of the man's head. The woman was giggling and grabbing his arm and the SF stiffened to attention when he saw Jack.

"General O'Neill." The voice was higher than normal, his surprise evident. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Not a problem, Owens," Jack replied, recognizing the SF. He noticed another security man near the top step next to the middle landing below him. "Call your CO and," he waved his hand, "take care of this."

"Yes sir," Owens replied and headed back through the door and booted feet running heavily was heard before the fire door closed. The Lieutenant and woman friend were now quiet, but she still had her arm around his waist and he was far from impressed with O'Neill.

"C'mon Jodie, let's go to your office," he mumbled as his hand reached to pull her head over to his shoulder, his other hand groping. She whispered back, "Stop it, Jeremy."

"You're in enough trouble already, Lieutenant, now STAND DOWN." It was 10:45 in the morning and the man was acting like he was drunk or high.

The Lieutenant scowled, but moved back to lean against the wall next to the stairs and the woman went with him. With one SF on the steps just below the middle landing and more SFs coming any second, Jack turned around to go back down to level 25. Before the sole of his dress black oxford touched the step, he was suddenly flying toward the landing. The SF managed to grab the banister and reach out, but could do nothing to stop O'Neill's momentum. It happened so fast and was so unexpected that Jack never really got a hand or even an arm up to effectively break his fall.

TBC

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Every error, misstep, screw up, typo, grammatical and spelling mistake is mine and mine alone. That includes all other possible and impossible things that are wrong with this.

Thanks to all who have reviewed and/or sent me email messages. I appreciate it very much. And I'm learning the hard way that I can't make everyone happy all of the time.

Okay, two more emails have arrived telling me that the double negative sentence isn't really a double negative. It's just a story. Can we please just go with it? ;)

About the cliff hanger. It was a good place to break off the chapter. Chapter 14 will get posted soon. I promise.


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to all who have reviewed and/or sent email. It's difficult to describe how your comments and feedback made/make me feel. It's all really good though. Thanks. :)

Special thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and everything else. She is so patient with me. I got so much feedback and so many emails that I snagged this chapter away from her a little before she was completely finished with it. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with it are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing. The upload preview function is not working for me so I couldn't look at this before submitting it. Okay that's not true. I could have waited until it was working.

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Previously in chapter 13 - The Lieutenant scowled, but moved back to lean against the wall next to the stairs and the woman went with him. With one SF on the step just below the middle landing and more coming any second, Jack turned around to go back down to level 25. Before the sole of his dress black oxford touched the step, he was suddenly flying toward the landing. The airman managed to grab the banister and reach out, but could do nothing to stop O'Neill's momentum. It happened so fast and was so unexpected that Jack never really got a hand or even an arm up to effectively break his fall.

**Chapter 14**

"GENERAL!" The SF looked helplessly at O'Neill laying deathly still on the landing. He hadn't been able to grab the senior officer's arm when the man's shoulder brushed him, and because the buttoned jacket was almost perfectly tailored, there just wasn't much excess fabric in the sleeve for him to latch onto either. Rushing to his side, the SF confirmed that O'Neill was breathing while he placed his fingers on the side of the unconscious man's neck to check for a pulse.

Relieved at finding one, he raced down the stairs and out to the corridor where he shouted to another SF farther down to get a medical team. Yelling for help was faster than running to the big red button yards away, and though additional security was already on the way, nobody knew that a medical team was needed too. Plus there wasn't any need to alert the entire base, which is what would have happened if he had touched that button.

He glared at the couple on the landing as if daring them to try something and saw a mixed reaction, with the woman appearing scared and the man angry. She kept smoothing her clothes as if to make sure she was properly covered, and every so often she used her fingers to comb her hair away from her face. The Lieutenant kept putting his hand around her waist and then slipping it down over her backside, and she kept pushing him away.

The SF kept his eye on them while he observed the General, noticing a puddle of blood about the size of a DVD under his head. Careful not to move him, but remembering the ABC of basic first aid, he made sure he was still breathing all right before checking his pulse again. Face down on the landing, O'Neill's right arm was under his chest, his left was splayed out to his side, and his legs were bent awkwardly.

Hearing running boot steps, the SF turned just as someone suddenly went past him up the stairs, and two more men stepped up behind him. At almost the same moment the door on the upper landing opened, and in just a few seconds the couple was restrained in the level 24 corridor before being taken away. Surprisingly neither one made a sound or resisted in any way. The SF who had witnessed what had happened checked O'Neill again, making sure the man was still breathing and had a strong pulse.

It was only a few seconds later when two more members of the security force appeared, along with the medical team rolling in a gurney with a backboard and a large first responder kit perched on top of it. Chief Medical Officer Dr. Carolyn Lam had elected to go with the medical team when it was revealed that the injured person had fallen down some stairs.

Unconscious was how she found her patient, and after getting past the surprise over his identity, she wanted to know what had happened while quickly assessing his condition. The witness told her what he knew and retreated to the level 25 corridor where he met with his team leader. O'Neill didn't respond when she called his name. He didn't even respond when she lifted his eyelids to check for pupil reaction and evidence of bleeding. She also looked for blood and other fluid in his ears, nose and mouth, and gently ran her hands over his skull feeling for goose eggs, open wounds and other signs of injury.

While the medic applied a little pressure to the bloody head wound, Dr. Lam used her gloved hands to check O'Neill's body, legs and left arm for obvious trauma. No matter how fast it had happened, self preservation had kicked in and was probably the reason why the man's right arm was underneath his body. O'Neill was right handed and would have automatically brought up his right hand to protect himself, whether he was aware of what he was doing or not.

With so many people on the landing there wasn't much room to work, but she finished quickly and was relieved to have not found any obviously broken bones. The med team got him turned onto his back, and it wasn't long before O'Neill was secured on a backboard with gauze wrapped around his head securing the thick bandage. A stiff foam cervical collar was immobilizing his neck while an air splint provided support for his right wrist and forearm. The tie-down straps would keep the patient's head and body from moving, but they needed to keep the board level and steady so no further injury would be inflicted on him. With Dr. Lam directing them, four SFs helped the medical personnel to carefully carry the loaded backboard down the stairs and gently place it on the gurney. The same four security airmen went along with the med team to the infirmary, while the rest stayed to secure the scene.

A CO arrived on the scene and was directed to the witness. "Well done, Rogers." The Airman had done a good job getting help and caring for the General until said help arrived.

The SF who had witnessed the assault didn't feel like he deserved any praise at all. "I couldn't stop him from falling, Sir."

"Probably nobody could have," the Captain tried to reassure him. Noticing something he inquired, "You have blood on your hand. Are you hurt?"

The SF looked confused before he looked at his hands, turning the palms up when he didn't see anything unusual on the backs. There, on his right palm and thumb was General O'Neill's blood. He started to wipe his hand on his pant leg when the team leader stopped him.

"Leave it. Get yourself to the infirmary and get checked out."

"But I'm not hurt, Captain. I'll just go wash my hands and be back, ready for duty."

The commander smiled slightly. "There's protocol for exposure to blood." The younger man nodded. He knew the rules. "Now get to the infirmary." Resigned, he nodded again, and headed for the elevator.

The security force 2IC arrived and less than three minutes later was in the elevator on his way to check on General O'Neill. When the elevator door opened on sub level 21, he gave a reassuring nod to the younger man tasked with telling General Landry the news. "He won't bite. Just tell him what happened," he instructed before leaving the car and the SF.

In a large lab on sub level 19, a nervous Dr. Lee and a couple of other scientists were getting ready to start a presentation for the President and other visitors. While everyone waited for the handouts to be passed around, President Hayes got General Landry's attention and whispered, "Where's Jack?" Landry barely shook his head and replied, "I don't know," just as an SF appeared at the door to the lab and spoke briefly to an agent. The agent then went to Landry and the President, who was sitting next to him. Dr Lee had been focused on his handouts and overhead projector, and didn't see the President and others get up to leave until they were almost out the door. He stood with his mouth open, wondering if it was something he had said or done. His colleagues were confused too and stood staring at him.

The Senior Airman was at attention in the corridor and gulped when he saw who was with his CO. One look from General Landry told him it was okay to speak, so he respectfully announced, "Mr. President, General Landry, Sirs, I apologize for the interruption."

Looking at the SF, Landry knew this had to be important for anyone to pull them out of the meeting. Instead of barking 'REPORT', he calmly said, "At ease son. Just tell us what's going on."

The man relaxed just a little, and trying not to be intimidated by the VIPs, directed his report to his General. Lowering his voice he said, "General Landry, General O'Neill has been taken to the infirmary." He saw that a secret service agent had closed the door to the lab so the group had some privacy in the corridor.

The group of very powerful men looked shocked. General Mantley recovered first. "Do you know what happened, Airman?"

"Yes Sir," he answered automatically, and a quick look from Landry told him to continue. "General O'Neill fell down the stairs between sub levels 24 and 25."

Landry, Hammond and Mantley all said, "What?" at the same time.

The Airman explained before anyone could say anything else. "General O'Neill came upon a couple in the stairwell between sub levels 24 and 25." He swallowed and then continued. "They were… kissing and… um… other things." He paused, wondering how many details they wanted, and decided they would ask a question if they wanted to know something. "The General left the situation to a security team and was leaving when he fell down the stairs."

Landry asked, "How badly is General O'Neill hurt?"

"I don't know, Sir. He was being treated when I was sent here."

Everyone took a second to comprehend the young man's report. It sounded like Jack interrupted something, the couple retaliated and Jack got hurt. Or had he tripped and fallen? Hammond and Mantley looked stricken, torn between staying for the presentation and rushing to the infirmary. Landry looked embarrassed, wondering how this could have happened on his base. The people working at Stargate Command were among the best anywhere. Was the couple military? Were they civilians? Could it have been an accident? Landry knew the security force commander would be busy handling everything.

"What's our status, Senior Airman?"

"The base is secure, and still in lockdown, Sir. The Lieutenant and female civilian are in holding cells."

"So not an accident?" Landry knew it was wishful thinking.

"No, Sir." There it was. The SF continued. "The stairwell is secure and hazmat is waiting for clearance to start the cleanup."

"Where is your commander now?"

The SF couldn't be sure if Landry was asking about his team leader, his flight commander or his squadron CO. "Captain Tiller was on 24 and Sergeant Reyes was on 25, Sir. Coming here I was on the elevator with Colonel Hahn. He got off on 21."

Lieutenant Colonel Max Hahn, 2IC of the SGC security force had gone to the infirmary, probably to check on Jack and see if he could get a statement from him. Wait, cleanup? "What kind of cleanup," Landry inquired, hoping he was wrong.

"Blood, Sir," the SF replied somberly, noticing the disgusted looks on the other men's faces. The President and General Mantley both looked like they wanted to hit something or someone, so the SF concentrated on General Landry, who looked angry, but in control.

In truth Landry was beyond livid. "How long ago did this happen?"

The man looked quickly at his watch and reported, "Approximately 10 minutes, Sir."

"Mr**.** President, if I may?" Landry wanted to know about Jack, but he also knew they needed to stay on schedule if they were going to finish in time for the President to leave for California. "I'd like for Dr. Lee's group to finish the presentation, and I'll call the infirmary and see what I can find out. We'll have a lunch break soon so we can get more information then."

Concern for Jack's welfare wouldn't keep things from proceeding. The head of Homeworld Security was in good hands and it might be a little while before they'd know anything anyway, so they reluctantly went back into the lab.

Fifty-one minutes later the entourage got off the elevator on the infirmary level. Landry and Hammond exchanged understanding looks when they saw the security presence, leaving little doubt that the security commander was doing his job. In addition to the men in the corridor, there were six men stationed inside the main infirmary, and two more were standing outside the door of a side treatment room. These were in addition to the SFs at standard position.

A nurse saw the large group and rose immediately to intervene. Her work sanctuary had already been invaded, and now another dozen people were trooping in, but when she saw who the six men doing the invading were, she discreetly retreated to the door of the side room to let the CMO know just who had arrived. Dr. Lam came out of the treatment area to greet the visitors, knowing they were there to find out about General O'Neill. He was the only patient in the infirmary, and she had known she'd be seeing them sooner or later. Most of the security personnel retreated to the hall allowing the others privacy, and more room, and it was also a little less intimidating for the staff. Two secret service agents stayed close while the others moved a short distance away.

"Mr**.** President, Sirs, it's good to see you again, though I wish it was under different circumstances."

"Doctor Lam," the President charmed, "It's my pleasure under any circumstances."

She smiled. Knowing the men probably knew the circumstances of how O'Neill had ended up in the infirmary, she got right to the point. "General O'Neill is still unconscious."

The men looked stunned. Dr. Lam added, "He's stable, and we're watching him."

"We'll be in meetings, but please let us know when he wakes up," Hammond sincerely requested.

Nodding she replied, "I'll page General Landry."

The SecDef added, "You will let us know if there's anything we can do?"

"Yes Sir."

They departed the infirmary a lot slower than they had entered it. Jack was still out. It had been an hour, and while any length of time could be serious, the longer a person was unconscious the more likely it was that the head injury was bad. And it wasn't like this was his first concussion - far from it.

Landry's conversation with the security force commander confirmed that Jack had been pushed in the back by the Lieutenant's foot, and now the Lieutenant and the civilian were isolated in separate holding cells. Witness statement, medical and security team statements, photographs and measurements had been taken, and the surveillance tapes secured. The area was taped off and under guard, waiting for the decision about AFOSI before cleaning up the blood. If Landry decided to get help from the outside, the team would not be able to come in as long as the base was locked down.

The VIP group entered the infirmary forty minutes later. Landry had pushed up the SG team leader lecture, and they had time to find out about Jack before taking a break for a late lunch.

Dr. Lam looked at the expectant faces on some of the most powerful men on earth before announcing, "General O'Neill regained consciousness a little bit ago." She had paged her father to tell him that O'Neill was awake, but he hadn't said they were coming right away. She should have known.

"What else can you tell us, Doctor?" The question was asked by the Air Force Chief.

"Not very much, Sir, I'm bound by patient confidentiality."

Hammond liked Hank's daughter, and agreed with Jack that she was a good CMO, but not telling them because of privacy was not going to fly. "Dr. Lam, did he tell you not to tell us anything?"

She hesitated, but then admitted, "No, he did not, but he's not in a condition to make decisions."

Landry asked, "Because of the head injury?"

"Yes, because of the head injury," Dr. Lam admitted meekly, believing she held all the cards.

Hammond knew he had her. He understood her desire to protect Jack's privacy, but he also knew that this was not a time to keep information from the President. And he knew they would do everything in their power to safeguard Jack's privacy. They weren't doctors, but they knew about head injuries, and Jack had been unconsciousness long enough for them to realize that he didn't just have a minor concussion. With Jack as head of Homeworld Security, they all had a right to know what was going on with him.

"Dr. Lam, we respect and admire what you're trying to do, but this isn't about violating patient confidentiality." She didn't look like she was going to give in and Hammond knew it was time to show his hand. "I have power of attorney for Jack O'Neill in medical matters. I'm asking you to tell us what you know about his injuries and then we'd like to see him." He was gentle, but the request was more of an order. It was done softly, but had the effect that his best command voice would have had in any other situation. Dr. Lam knew she should ask him to show her the document proving the claim, but it would be easy enough to check. Hammond had no reason to lie about anything so she conceded.

"General O'Neill was in a stupor for over 90 minutes," she started.

"Stupor?" Her father asked the question, though he probably wasn't the only one wondering about the term since it sounded like Jack had been drinking.

"He was unresponsive except to sharp pain," she clarified, waiting while the impact of that statement sunk in before continuing. "The CT didn't reveal a skull fracture or obvious bleeding, but he has a traumatic brain injury. Due to the way he fell... and landed, his head sustained two blows."

The impact of that was seen on the faces of the six men. Undeterred she continued. "He's got a severe headache, and is experiencing extremely painful muscle spasms in his neck, shoulders and back." She paused for a few seconds wondering just how much detail she should go into, but quickly realized from General Hammond's face that she should tell them just about everything. "The fall down the steps and then onto the landing was brutal, and he has several deep contusions, both soft tissue and bone. Because he was pushed, he fell with much more force than if he had just tripped or stumbled. The head injury, in addition to the medications I may be giving him, will hinder any conversation with him, so if you want to speak to the General you probably should go in now."

Suddenly remembering, Dr. Lam felt she better warn them about something else. "You should know that he's exhibiting perseveration." The blank looks reminded her to explain. "It means he's repeating the same thing over and over again. It's more than confusion, more than just memory loss." She didn't see any hesitation, in fact they looked more determined than ever. "The room is not large so only one of you can go in." They looked surprised and disappointed by the low number. Hoping she wouldn't regret it, Dr. Lam relented. "Or two, but I can only give you a minute or so."

The expressions on their faces tore at her heart, and she realized they were concerned as friends, not just his bosses and co-workers. In an instant the men were back in control of their emotions, with only their eyes revealing any feelings. Dr. Lam's demeanor softened and she went on to explain and reassure everyone that he was probably going to be just fine. The men talked briefly and it was decided that the President, Hammond and Landry would go in the first time. So much for one or two.

The base CO pushed open the door to the private treatment room and the three men filed in, taking note of the nurse and the SF posted by the door. Almost immediately an agent entered behind them, positioning himself to the side of the door opposite from the SF. Their attention back on Jack, they could see him laying on his back wearing a cloth gown over surgical scrub pants. His face was a little pale and etched in pain, but mostly it was the bandage above his eye, the foam cervical collar and dark blue bruise on his forehead that caught their attention. His eyes were closed, but Hammond knew he wasn't sleeping. His eyes opened as soon as the door swung shut.

"Hey sirs," he said, barely loud enough for them to hear, his jaw clenching against the collar supporting his neck. The head of the bed was slightly elevated and they could see cold packs cradling his head and wrist. Another one was underneath against his back and still another one resting on the top of his head overlapping his forehead. Cold packs were also on his shoulders, nudged up against the collar. Landry looked to the SF, a silent request for him to step out before he pulled up a chair. The nurse excused herself, but not before she made sure the call button was in reach. Knowing better than to ask the agent to leave, Hayes sat down, putting him more in line with Jack's vision.

"How are you feeling, Jack?" Landry spoke first, trying not to stare at the rapidly forming black eyes.

"Been better," he admitted, "and worse," he added, and they knew that was true.

Hammond half expected him to say he was fine, but the obvious pain kept him from doing that. He also wasn't joking about anything. Hammond put his hand on Jack's forearm, but not before noticing the IV already there. It was in line with his thumb on the side of his left wrist, and taped in place.

"Anything we can do for you, Jack?" Hammond's hand stayed on Jack's foreman, keeping the connection.

"No, sir," Jack murmured. His eyes were barely open and raw pain was on his face and in his demeanor. He seemed to be cautiously looking around when he asked, "What happened?" His voice was barely a whisper.

The door swung open and a medic came in, approaching the bed and carrying what looked like large rolled towels. "Mr. President, Sirs." He stood in a semi-attention stance as he addressed the three men, before speaking to his patient. "General O'Neill, I have heat packs for you. Is that all right, Sir?"

He waited patiently for a response, carefully observing the injured man. Jack didn't speak, but he slowly nodded once, and after removing the cold packs, the man gently placed a hot one under and on his right shoulder. A nurse came in and hung two additional smaller medication bags on the IV stand, but didn't attach them. She quickly checked the drip monitor before leaving again. The medic continued placing hot packs under and on Jack's other shoulder, and then carefully slipped one under his lower back. The last one went around his left knee. He elevated Jack's arm on a pillow, picked up the plastic bedside urine bottle and left after announcing that he'd be back in 20 minutes.

Jack didn't move, just grimaced, waiting for blessed relief. Hammond still had his hand on his arm when Jack opened his eyes a little wider, looking to and fro until he suddenly tensed, rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. Before the three men could move, he had vomited over the side of the bed, and remains of chocolate cake and red punch ran down to the floor and across the President's shoes.

TBC

AFOSI - Air Force Office of Special Investigations


	15. Chapter 15

Special thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and everything else. I wouldn't be this far without her and there just aren't any words that properly express my appreciation. I decided to post this chapter before she was able to finish. Beta-ing takes a lot of time and I haven't been fair to her.

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Previously in chapter 14 - Jack didn't move, just grimaced, waiting for blessed relief. Hammond still had his hand on his arm and Jack opened his eyes a little wider, darting to and fro until he suddenly tensed, rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. Before the three men could move, he had vomited over the side of the bed, and remains of chocolate cake and red punch ran down to the floor and across the President's shoes.

**Chapter 15 **

Gagging, Jack groaned and Hammond reached for the call button while Landry helped Hayes. The chair was moved quickly out of the way and Jack threw up again just as the door swung open. A medic and a nurse rushed to the General's bedside. Dr. Lam looked to O'Neill's visitors fully expecting them to leave, but instead they moved out of the way to the side of the room. Dismissing them for the time being, she went to help her staff with the General. In only a minute or so the bed was changed and Jack had been cleaned up and was wearing a fresh gown. He had rinsed out his mouth**,** but was still struggling with nausea. The overwhelming stench didn't help with that and may have actually precipitated the second episode.

Dr. Lam kind of forgot about the three visitors and after the medic and Dr. Bishop moved the bed over a little, she proceeded to assess her patient. Jack refused to return to his back so she started with questions, receiving only barely audible responses and ending with the General giving her permission to administer medications to help him feel better. She had been prepared for this development because she removed a capped loaded syringe from her pocket. After swabbing the IV port she slowly pushed a couple cc's of liquid. As if on cue, the medic was back with towels and two spray bottles. One was disinfectant and the other a product called Medi-aire. The medic used the Medi-aire first, spraying into the air away from the people. The foul odor in the room was gone almost immediately leaving behind a scent that could still be described as institutional. The man then used the other product and the towels on the President's shoes and the floor. Landry was helping Hayes when the nurse returned with an extra pillow which she placed between Jack's knees. The doctor finished the injection and after depositing the empty syringe in the hazardous waste disposal box she plucked another from her pocket. Moving to the other side of the bed she noticed that the President and Generals were still in the room with no intention of leaving.

Dr. Lam looked at the three men for only a second before turning her attention back to O'Neill. "I'm going to give you an injection in your hip and I'm sorry sir, but it's going to not only ache, but sting."

O'Neill's head barely moved in a nod, the pain etched clearly on his face. Dr. Lam looked at the three bystanders with a questioning gaze, but they shook their heads. They weren't leaving. She moved the gown and carefully pulled down the pant uncovering just enough of his hip to for her to give him the shot. Tearing open a 2X2 alcohol wipe, the nurse quickly swabbed the bare skin before Dr. Lam skillfully inserted the needle and began injecting the medication into the muscle. Jack didn't react at first, but then they could see him tense up.

The doctor felt it too. "I'm sorry Sir, I know this hurts."

Jack's breathing slowed a little as he tried to relax, but between the injection, the cramping muscles and his damn head which was pounding and crushing at the same time, well it was too much for even him to handle. It seemed like he hurt everywhere and the tiniest movement was excruciating. Adding to it was the nausea as he dry heaved a few times and groaned mournfully when his headache blossomed once more. The witnesses felt his suffering personally.

Dr. Lam finished up by making sure the injection site had stopped bleeding, applied a small round Band-Aid and adjusted the scrub pant to cover his hip preserving his dignity before pulling a sheet over him. O'Neill's hand was in such a tight fist that his nails were digging into his skin and he was biting his lip so hard it looked like it would bleed at any second.

The CMO put her hand on Jack's shoulder and upper arm, rubbing softly, offering comfort as he fought the pain and nausea. "Please try to relax and let the medications work. You'll be feeling a little better real soon." She was hoping more than promising.

Jack's head moved slightly into a nod though you'd miss it if you weren't really paying attention. He grimaced again before opening his eyes to slits and his gaze became fixed and unfocused. His fisted hand relaxed, opening slightly and his teeth finally released his lower lip. It appeared the drugs were working and the President and Generals returned to the bed as the medic raised the side rails.

O'Neill's gaze was straight ahead, his eyes unblinking as men stood at his side. Not knowing what to say they looked to Dr. Lam, but she was also quiet. O'Neill started looking around a little and Landry leaned over. The ailing man saw his friend and blankly asked, "Wha happ?"

Landry provided the answer to his question by saying, "You went down the stairs and hit your head, but you're going to be fine." Hayes stepped up as Jack's eyes closed and then opened again.

Jack recognized his Commander-in-Chief and slurred, "Mist...Presss." He tried to focus, but the others saw his stare fix on the President's tie tack or maybe the flag pin on his lapel.

"How are you doing, Jack?" He knew it was a stupid question, but at the moment he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Jack remembered vomiting. He hadn't done it on purpose, but thought he should apologize. he slurred, "Shoes... sor...ry," while his brain briefly wondered how many people had tossed their cookies onto the President of the United States. Jack didn't think about it for long as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He was fading and the blinks were becoming longer and longer.

"Don't even think about it, Jack." It was a minor thing when compared to the situation and he'd never mention anything about what happened, to Jack or to anyone else ever again. It hadn't been Jack's fault and Hayes had no intention of embarrassing the man. "We're going to go now. I'm ordering you to rest," the President told him, his eyes revealing affection and respect. A little sorrow too. It was difficult to see O'Neill appearing vulnerable.

"Yessssssir," Jack eventually sighed, his lids blinking long and slow until they closed for good.

With an approving look from the CMO, the medic lowered the side rail, and with the nurse's help he turned Jack onto his back. Carefully avoiding the cervical collar he again placed the hot packs on the man's shoulders while the nurse straightened the covers and checked the IVs. Dr. Lam had been busy writing on a clipboard, but she handed it to the nurse saying, "Please get him on the monitors."

"Let's step outside," Dr. Lam said to the three men. A custodian pushing a wheeled bucket with a mop was ready to enter the room as soon as they walked out to the main infirmary.

"Doctor, it is no secret that this planet needs Jack O'Neill. I need him," President Hayes admitted. He was not embarrassed to tell her how he felt. The admission was a prelude to asking her if Jack was going to be all right, but he didn't get the chance to finish.

"Yes, Sir, and barring complications, he should be all right," the doctor told him. "For now we try to get him comfortable and closely monitor his condition," she informed them with a small smile. Her father cared about O'Neill like a brother and she knew Hammond was extremely fond of him as well. From the visit and now conversation with President Hayes, SecDef, SecAF and the Generals, she was positive they all liked and cared about the charismatic head of Homeworld Security. Their concern was genuine, of that she was certain.

The man was easy to like and while she was sorry he had been hurt, she was glad to be the one who got to treat and care for him. Their SGC association had been short lived when she was offered the CMO position right before he went off to Washington. She hoped for the chance to get to know him a little better, but for now she could only report on his condition.

Hammond decided to ask, "What about the IV.... and the injections you gave him?"

"We're giving General O'Neill limited standard hydration. The IV will keep us from having to stick him so often. He's in enough pain without us adding to it." She knew they understood that many medications could be given through the IV port. Dr. Lam waited to see if it looked like anyone needed further explanation. When they didn't she went on. "He's been given several drugs, and the piggyback drips are medications to counteract brain swelling and to help prevent seizures. He's not getting those yet. I ordered them put up in case his condition warrants it. I just gave him separate injections of an anti-emetic and a muscle relaxant."

To clarify she added, "The antiemetic should control the vomiting."

The SecDef and AF Secretary looked uncomfortable with the mention of bodily functions while President Hayes just looked down at his shoes trying not to think about chocolate cake, red punch, bile and stomach acid. Hammond and Landry stayed silent, both of them remembering what had happened. Thank goodness the shoes had wiped off easily and the President's socks and trousers were spared.

Dr. Lam forged ahead. "The laceration was bloody, many head wounds and facial lacerations are, but it's closed with a couple of sutures and steri-strips."

Nobody knew what else to say or what to ask. They were worried. Dr. Lam could tell it too so she jumped in to try to reassure them. As CMO she treated the patient and to a lesser extent the extended SGC family. Or in this case, O'Neill's Washington DC family.

"He's stable and being closely monitored. For now we just have to wait. He'll get better fast or he won't, and at that time we'll intervene with appropriate treatment." The words 'or he won't' slapped them in their faces.

"He's wearing that collar.... on his neck," the President stated and then asked, "is there something wrong there?"

"There doesn't appear to be any damage, other than severe muscle spasms. We need to keep his neck straight and slightly elevated to help drain cerebral spinal fluid and any blood. That will help keep the pressure down."

Landry knew his daughter well, but as the base commander he had to ask the obvious question. "Are you comfortable treating him here or should he be moved to the Academy Hospital?"

Dr. Lam wasn't offended at all because on many occasions patients were transferred out of the mountain. "I don't believe anyone else could do more for him than we are right now, but should the need arise..." She was confident in being able to treat him as long as he didn't develop symptoms indicating something more serious. Remembering that the President's current doctor had tons of experience with head injuries, she asked, "Is Commander Bishop in the mountain?" Navy Commander Nathan Bishop was one of several doctors currently on the White House rotation and one of two who had accompanied the President to Colorado. Bishop was in the mountain while the other doctor had stayed at Peterson Air Force Base.

The group talked for only a minute before an SF was sent to get the doctor. The plan was to have him sign the nondisclosure agreement, but not tell him anything classified.

Going back into command mode Landry proposed, "We need to keep a lid on this."

The others nodded, knowing O'Neill was not up for visitors and wouldn't want anyone to see him in distress. Part of protecting his privacy was keeping rumors and innuendo at bay. They also needed to quell any gossip related to his position at Homeworld Security.

Hammond expressed his opinion. "Jack understands that you, Mr. President and you Mike, not only need, but deserve to know what's going on with him. That of course includes the other joint chiefs and you Hank as well as others, as circumstances dictate." He looked directly at the SecDef and SecAF. The message in his eyes and face was clear: don't even think about violating Jack O'Neill's privacy. The President looked at the two men too but didn't say a word. Hammond decided the message had been delivered and received so he continued. "As for anyone else knowing, when Jack is awake and able, we'll ask him what he wants to do. In the meantime I say that no information should get out."

Mantley agreed with Hammond and stated, "Jack is entitled to all the privacy that we can give him, Mr. President. I recommend a gag order."

They cussed and discussed it all and by consensus it was decided that information about Jack would be restricted. The infirmary would remain accessible if needed. Anyone who knew about what happened would be prohibited from saying anything outside the proper chain of command or they would face serious consequences.

"I concur," the President solemnly stated. "I won't go as far as a decree or an executive order, but I want a gag order for all personnel – especially security and medical personnel."

Forgetting about Jack's former team for the moment, Landry nodded and added, "Hopefully very few personnel will know anything about this, but just in case… we need to safeguard Jacks privacy." He would call the duty officer to make sure the appropriate people were informed about the gag order. During normal operations a duty officer was not necessary when Landry or his 2IC were on base, but with both men being so busy because of the presidential visit, it was decided that officers would rotate the assignment 24/7 until their commander-in-chief departed. Landry looked at his doctor daughter and stated, "You are responsible for your staff." The next step was containment and damage control.

The look on her face indicated that she understood what he was saying. Too many times a gossipy medic or a nurse trying to impress someone had broken a confidence. Dr. Lam would remind her staff, threaten them if necessary to keep Jack's privacy... private. "I don't think General O'Neill should have any visitors, at least not for a while." she stated confidently. "But I assume I can't apply that restriction to the six of you?"

"That's correct, Dr. Lam," the SecDef piped in. "And please let us know of any change. We will all be in meetings this afternoon."

"We better get going if we want to eat before the next presentation," Landry concluded. His eyes offered a silent 'thank you' to his daughter.

"Thank you Doctor, we'll be back later," General Mantley somberly told her as they all headed for the exit surrounded by secret service agents and several members of the SGC security force.

*****

The morning had gone as planned, except for the O'Neill incident that resulted in adding personnel to the infirmary and sub levels 24 and 25, including the stairwell. And of course several SFs were assigned holding cell duty to monitor a sobbing civilian and a mouthy Lieutenant. With the Presidential delegation minus O'Neill secured for lunch, the office settled down. The senior officer had enough to deal with, he didn't need a new man, but Captain Guernsey had been assigned and it was his job to get him up to speed. At least the Captain knew information and security systems, and was already familiar with much of Stargate Command. After only an hour the new Captain was assigned to the auxiliary station on 16 and for the first time since coming to the mountain, he was left alone while the other officer reported to the duty officer.

As soon as the other man was out the door, Captain Guernsey needed precious little time to complete his subterfuge. He'd studied all the manuals and specifications for the SGC and knew the security from top to bottom. He accessed every service system flawlessly, prepared for when the time came to input his own override codes. He was aware of everything related to the computers and the personnel, including usual duty assignments and he verified how easily he could take over the phone lines and radio frequencies. He then quickly installed the data router placing the wireless remote safely in his pocket just as the other man returned.

TBC

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The medications referenced in this story may or may not be standard protocol in today's medical world. I know from personal experience that five years ago they were used pretty much as I used them here. This is a fictional story so let's just go with it. :)

I put this at the beginning but it deserves repeating. Special thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and everything else. I wouldn't be this far without her and there just aren't any words that properly express my appreciation. I decided to post this chapter before she was able to finish. Beta-ing takes a lot of time and I haven't been fair to her.

Thanks to bats212 who joined me for this chapter. I jerked it away from her too before she was finished with her critique.

All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.

**To the people sending me chapter ideas and suggestions for changes - I appreciate your email messages, but you need to know that this story is mostly finished and I'm not rewriting big portions of it. I am also not going to make it a slash story with Jack and Hammond or a romance with Jack and Carter. It's not going to happen.**


	16. Chapter 16

Friendly reminder - this story is rated T. Now we're getting into some stuff that I think still falls within that rating. If you disagree or have concerns, please let me know. I want to keep it in the T rating. The next few chapters will have more medical.... things. Still rated T I think. :)

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**Chapter 16**

The President was thankful that his personal aide was so efficient. Sometimes irritatingly efficient, but to his credit, even on a day trip, the young man always packed a garment bag for the President, just in case. Nobody ever knew when a ballpoint pen might leak or coffee would get spilled or perhaps a drooling baby would soil his jacket. Just last week at a breakfast meeting his sleeve was soiled by an overenthusiastic governor reaching for a raspberry danish. This day it was vomit. Missing his socks and trousers, it had been easily wiped off his shoes and after leaving the infirmary he hadn't noticed the smell. That was until he was closed up in the restroom before lunch. Even the room deodorizer couldn't completely mask the unmistakable smell.

President Hayes had thought he wouldn't need to change, but after only a minute to use the facilities and wash his hands, he was glad the aide had sent the bag along. He unzipped it and found socks, shoes, boxers, undershirt, dress shirt, slacks, jacket and tie. In a small pocket he discovered a flag pin, a tie tack and a extra pair of laces. Slipping off his shoes he debated whether or not to just replace the laces. The shoes looked fine and he thought about stuffing them in the shine bags hoping they just needed another cleaning, but as he looked closer he saw that the stitching was soiled. Inside the shoe he saw a stained area on the leather and decided to change his socks too. When he exited the restroom he called for an agent to get a plastic bag for the items and then to get an SF to dispose of them. He wished he hadn't had to do that, he liked those shoes and they were broken in just right. He remembered the spray that the medic had used in the infirmary treatment room and for just a moment wondered if it would work on his shoes. The socks were an older pair of argyles so parting with them was no problem at all. Even if he could close them up in a re-sealable bag to take home for washing, he certainly didn't want to risk the telltale smell escaping to seep into other items in the garment bag.

Lunch was a bust, but it didn't matter since not one of the six men was interested in eating. After the dishes were cleared away they used the time to discuss the threat information and upcoming security test. The CIA had determined from undisclosed sources that infiltration of the mountain complex was a real possibility and Homeworld Security hadn't wasted any time getting a plan in place. Stopping a threat before anything happened was always best, but not always possible, especially with a secret program. And with the Stargate they didn't know if the threat would come from earth or possibly from off world through the gate. Everyone acknowledged that in previous foothold situations, they had simply been lucky to come out of them as well as they had. It didn't take Hammond and O'Neill long to get the President, Mantley and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs on board with a possible solution for taking back the facility if and when it fell into the wrong hands. They had to sway the President's thinking because he was worried about loss of life and if disclosure meant saving personnel then so be it. Hammond and O'Neill, along with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs convinced him that while personnel were important, keeping the program secret was more important. And after some discussion they had come up with a plan to try to do both if anything happened.

"I'll call General Maynard to let him know about Jack and at dinner tonight we'll go over the plan, maybe on a conference call with him." He could tell the men were still mulling things over - not knowing about the threat, or the test, but mostly the threat. "

I know you're a little upset." The President looked at Generals Moseley and Landry, the SecDef and SecAF and Major Paul Davis one by one. There wasn't anger on anyone's face. More disbelief than anything else. There was an apparently verifiable threat against the SGC and Hayes and Hammond had kept it secret. But he hadn't kept it secret. He just hadn't shared it with everyone in the room until now. He knew they would need to discuss SGC security and much more at dinner so he used his own personal experience to try and pacify them.

"I had to be sworn in as President of the United States to find out about the Stargate." It only took a few seconds before every man in the room was smiling and Hayes knew they'd get over not being informed.

The lunch meeting eventually broke up, the men needing to freshen up before the afternoon presentations. Hammond and Mantley were alone for a couple of minutes so the retired general inquired, "Has Jack talked to you about his powers of attorney, Mike?" Hammond knew about and respected his friend's intentions, but didn't know if the man had spoken to the four star General.

Mantley's mouth formed into a sad smile as he said, "Yeah he asked me. Said the papers would be ready to sign when we get back to DC." The two men shared a look of unspoken acceptance about Jack's wishes should anything happen to him. "He said, and these are his words, Hammond retains the power to pull the plug."

Hammond nodded solemnly. Leave it to Jack to make light of something so serious. With no immediate family Jack had always put his directives carefully into place. SG-1, specifically Daniel Jackson, Samantha Carter and Teal'c were on the notification list with restricted access to information about him. Any information, medical, financial, it didn't matter. Everything about Jack was covered by need-to-know and national security. In the new arrangement George Hammond's name would be placed at the top of the list that also included Sara O'Neill, Casandra Fraiser, Jack's clone and Hank Landry unless it was something catastrophic, and then Hammond would have to make a decision.

While the President and others went to the next scheduled presentation, Hammond accompanied Landry to his office where behind closed doors they sat down to have a cup of coffee.

"I understand how you feel, Hank," Hammond started, surveying Landry's face. "In your position, I'd be pretty angry too. You have my permission to speak freely. Now get it off your chest before you burst," he urged.

Landry smiled. His friend knew him well and could read him despite his best efforts to hide his annoyance. This was his base and they knew about a threat and didn't tell him. They had planned a security test and didn't tell him. He'd known Jack was up to something and maybe he should have pressed the issue sooner. That was the least of the surprises though. Why didn't they tell him about the threat?

"George, you know I… damn it, I played good airman and didn't challenge Jack when he accessed the computers with a key card that I knew nothing about," Landry snarled, his hands grabbing at air and then he paused while remembering what happened in the control room.

"I know he was following orders and… now that I think about it he might have told me more than he had to," he admitted. "But why in God's name wasn't I told about a threat to my base?"

Hammond sipped his coffee and smiled guiltily. "Need to know Hank. and I completely understand if you aren't buying it. The Chairman doesn't know you like Jack and I know you."

Landry sat thinking about need to know. A base commander needed to know unless it was possible that he was involved. Thinking about foothold situations he could understand where they would be careful. This wasn't a foothold though. Or was it?

"All right George, I'm over it," he sighed, adding, "I don't need a pound of flesh. If it's a domestic terrorist group, how does it translate to a possible foothold here?"

"Good deduction, Hank. A few things weren't brought to light at the meeting. There are many possible scenarios, but the most convincing seems to be someone who knows about Stargate Command and wants to reveal the existence of the gate to the world, or someone who knows about it and wants to use it, either for leaving the planet or bringing someone here."

"Those situations all mean that it's someone who knows about the gate," Landry surmised. Of course it was about the gate. Who would want to break in and take over Deep Space Radar Telemetry?

"We can't prove anything yet Hank, but dollars to donuts it's a plot with political muscle," Hammond told Landry, a little disgust in his voice, "probably bought and paid for with US dollars."

"They create havoc. Make me and my senior staff appear weak and unprepared and of course the President has no choice, but to relieve me and put someone else in command."

"That's about it. Not the first time it's been tried," Hammond conceded. "They'd push for Jack to be out too."

Landry had another theory. "This command didn't have anything bad or questionable happen while Dr. Weir was in charge, did it?"

Hammond's lips pursed into a wry smile. "No, and even though she was in charge for only a short time, there are some who would play the 'civilian in charge is better' card." He watched Landry's face and knew just what the man was thinking." And yes Hank, they'd play up the whole success in negotiating with the Goa'uld as another reason."

Landry nodded. Then a thought hit him like bare knuckles on his chin. "Are we sure Kinsey's dead?" Landry was only half joking.

Hammond shook his head slowly. More than once he'd wondered the very same thing. His right hand rubbed the top of his left, concentrating on the joints before massaging the thumb for many seconds to release the arthritic tightness. His hands were stiff from being clenched tightly into fists, a personal bad habit (personal bad habit?) and the friction created heat easing the taut joints. The retired general repeated the process on his right hand as he addressed the SGC Commander.

"Kinsey's name was not mentioned, but I have to admit that sometimes I wonder too. Without a body we don't really know what happened to that man." Their eyes met in understanding about what Kinsey became capable of doing and his motives. And of course the fact that he was a Goa'uld the last time anyone reported seeing him. "The CIA says the source is reliable, Hank. Even the NID is taking this seriously. Surprisingly some of them have decided that the military should have the lead in managing the Stargate."

Landry suddenly remembered something he'd wanted to ask Jack about and decided to ask Hammond instead. "I'm probably not supposed to know this, but there's a rumor that Jack was at NCIS headquarters."

Hammond smiled, knowing more about what Landry was referring to than the man had any idea about. "Was he in uniform?"

Landry was taken aback for a few seconds before he replied. "You know he wasn't." Then he smiled too. "That visit didn't have anything to do with this?"

"Actually, part of it did. The CIA operative was having trouble making contact and on that day could only get connected through MTAC. So, yes, it did have to do with this."

Landry was still confused. "If it was official then why wasn't Jack in uniform?"

Hammond laughed. "He didn't want to draw attention to being there. And because he was going out to lunch after the video conference call."

Now Landry was intrigued. "Anybody I know?"

TBC

MTAC - Multiple Threat Alert Center

NCIS - Naval Criminal Investigative Service

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Thanks to Zeilfanaat for the beta and everything else and also to bats212 who has joined team wind. :) All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to Zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and everything else. :) All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.

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Previously in chapter 16 - Landry was still confused. "If it was official then why wasn't Jack in uniform?"

Hammond laughed. "He didn't want to draw attention to being there. And because he was going out to lunch after the video conference call."

Now Landry was intrigued. "Anybody I know?"

**Chapter 17 **

Hammond knew that Jack wouldn't care if Landry knew so he told him. "The Director of NCIS."

Landry knew the director was a woman. "I've heard about her, haven't met her." He didn't worry about bait - he was fishing without a hook. "Anything else I should know?"

Hammond chuckled. "They're new friends. It's very low key and they're staying below radar."

"That's good," Landry half mumbled, filing the information away in his brain so he could ask Jack about it later. Staying below the radar meant Jack would cook and they'd watch DVDs or listen to music. If they went out in public it would be somewhere off the grid, perhaps a restaurant not usually frequented by the Washington politicos. He knew Jack would be careful to watch our for paparazzi looking for a photo to grace the front page of the local rag.

Before Hammond steered them back on topic he asked Landry, "Your neighbor's boy still like working for NCIS?" It wasn't the only way Hank could have known that Jack had been at NCIS, but it was logical.

"He does, a lot. And I think his time in the Army is helping him do a better job too. Better than just coming out of civilian law enforcement."

Hammond nodded in agreement, believing that serving in the military was always a good thing. Army CID would have been good experience for him. "I thought he was working out of the office in Florida?"

"He is. There was some training thing he had to go to at the Navy yard." It was just coincidence that the young man was in DC and happened to be at the Navy yard just when Jack was there.

Hammond accepted the explanation and then it was time to get back on track. "We should test the override card before you resume normal operations and the fewer people who know about it the better. Jack completed his programming task so we just need the key cards."

"Obviously you can't tell me everything, but what good is the card without the password?"

"I can tell you more," Hammond admitted. "The pre-programmed access card Jack brought with him needed only to be put into the system and authenticated with codes known only to him. As soon as he swiped it, the trigger was unblocked. It's now an active override."

"That's why the SGC card was needed at all. We changed our passwords and then issued new coded cards to everyone just prior to the President arriving, to restrict access to areas of the base and to provide better security lockouts, like the elevators. The card I gave Jack had no restrictions. His is gold, just like mine."

"This was just going to be a test Hank, but with that Homeworld card the person using it can change anything. Swipe it to activate a door and after that only that card or one programmed like it will open the door. The Chairman wants a complete override in place so a foothold situation can be busted with one person and one card coming from outside the mountain. It wouldn't matter what security tried to do to change codes and lockout areas. The card would access anything and everything and once overwritten the individual security points can't be changed by anyone else. It will ensure complete autonomy."

"Landry tried to think like a computer geek. "What about using a codebreaker program to get the password?"

Hammond wasn't surprised that Hank had asked. He was just glad he knew what that was and had an answer to the question. "They could eventually get in, given enough time. This plan won't protect the SGC forever, it merely buys us time to get it back. As for code-breaking software being used, yes, but the good news is that even with the most sophisticated software, breaking a complex 18 digit password would take time." He paused while that information sunk in before adding, "The new security measures being developed do not allow for a codebreaker to get a chance to work. They will allow for only one password input, all 18 characters at the same time, and if it's incorrect then the system sends out security alerts and locks out the keyboard. An additional attempt at penetration from another location and the system being accessed is locked out until released by security CO and a SGC senior officer at the same time."

Landry was impressed. Some smart people had obviously given all of this a lot of thought. For several seconds he couldn't think of anything to say or ask. But then he did. "Jack was only in the mainframe. What about the gate computer. That system is now completely separate and isolated."

Hammond nodded once, Landry was right. "The Homeworld card can't access the gate computer without using the SGC card first."

"I saw both cards. They look alike. How does Jack or anybody else tell them apart?"

"The card is a quarter of a mil thicker. Not really enough for the average person to tell the difference unless they take the time to examine it."

"C'mon, there has to be more to it than that." Landry knew Hammond was holding out on him.

The bald man smiled. "Jack is color blind. Not to a severe degree, but greens and blues get a little mixed up sometimes. The new card, developed just for him to use in this test, has a defect in the round logo, the one in the right hand corner. The color pattern is solid on the standard cards and just looks worn on the test card, but it's actually a printed dot pattern." Landry was grinning. Hammond added, "Only a person with similar color blindness would notice anything different and only if they really paid attention."

All military personnel are tested for color blindness and it's well documented in their records every year during their annual physical. Certain career paths are not suitable for people who are color blind, like in an electronics field where differentiating between colors of wire is important. And there are varying degrees of color blindness, the majority of which do not impair the individual at all. Landry never thought about who was or who was not color blind, but he knew he could find out. The look on Hammond's face told him that the retired General had.

"Medical files are confidential, but since color blindness is also a safety issue, it's not kept secret from command. Normally it never comes into play when determining anything about an individual. In this case we needed to know."

"Just how many people under my command have color blindness?" Landry was just curious. They were his people after all.

"Sixteen people in your command have a documented degree of color blindness, but probably only eleven of them would notice a difference if they looked at the two cards side by side." He waited only a second before revealing their identities. "Nine are enlisted. One is in food service, three are mechanics and three are security force. The other two are on SG-13."

Landry had no idea and just shook his head before asking, " And the officers?"

"Reynolds and Dixon."

The surprised look on Landry's face made Hammond chuckle.

Landry smiled and asked, "What about the civilians?"

"They're tested when they get their pre-hire physicals. None have color blindness." Hammond clarified that information. "Most of us have some color deficiency, but only 8-12% have impairment."

"Jeez George, it's actually brilliant." Landry smiled coyly.

"Are you surprised the Chairman could come up with something like this, Hank?" Hammond grinned inside, but appeared serious to Landry.

"I… um… uh… permission to speak freely?" Landry hesitantly asked and Hammond nodded once.

"Yeah, a little… all right that's a lie. I'm amazed he could be so forward thinking." He knew Francis Maynard was a very smart man and brilliant tactician for the battlefield. He didn't as far as Landry knew have a lot of experience in being sneaky... cunningly sneaky. "Let's see if I have this straight. If anyone took over the SGC, one person coming in covertly, or not, and in possession of a special key card could take everything back and there would be nothing anybody could do about it."

Hammond nodded smiling. Landry was quick to appreciate the implications.

"How long would it take someone like Colonel Carter to figure out what was going on and interfere?"

"That's a good question. During simulations it took the best and the brightest over two hours to figure out that the access points weren't just damaged somehow resulting in them being non-functioning. And four hours later most still thought everything could be fixed at the central computer core." Hammond rubbed his hands together and then interlaced his fingers as Landry voiced his understanding.

"In an hour, a person could take back the SGC or at least keep infiltrators from accessing anything else. And hold the gate. I support the gate computer needing the card and a password. You're betting everything that they'd never suspect an access card that looks exactly like every other key card could be the cause, and if they did, well hopefully by that time it would be too late."

"That's right Hank, way too late. If our man gets in trouble, unless they killed him instantly, he needs only to scratch the magnetic strip with the edge of his fingernail or simply flex the card a couple of times and it won't work anymore. It takes a special reader to even see that it is different."

Hammond grinned while rubbing his head. "By then the damage is done and hopefully special forces are in the mountain, and the bad guys are looking for a way out."

The plan was sneaky, sneaky and wonderfully devious, and clever. "This wasn't General Maynard's idea was it, George?" Landry sipped his coffee, his eyes twinkling. The man was smart, but this, this was brilliant.

"No, it wasn't Hank, though he and the President were thrilled when Jack proposed it," he proudly admitted.

Nearly dropping his coffee cup on the briefing room table top Landry sighed, his worries resurfacing with the mention of his friend's name. He shrugged apologetically and Hammond's eyes mirrored his own anxiety.

"So few people know how Jack's mind works," Landry chuckled with Hammond beaming his own agreement. "The color blind thing, that was Jack too?"

Hammond smiled, "Yes. Simple and yet very effective."

"The man is amazing." Neither one could argue with that statement.

There was a moment of silence before Hammond revealed, "You'd be surprised how many guys in special forces have color blindness."

Landry looked thoughtful before guessing, "Makes sense though since probably over half of them probably wanted to be pilots." Hammond nodded agreement.

Then Hank somberly added, "I hope he's doing all right. I really hate waiting."

Hammond chuckled softly, nodding agreement and understanding. Waiting is one of many duties of a commander and one of the hardest. For seven years he'd sent teams through the gate, not knowing what they were getting into, for the most part unable to help them if there was trouble and then waiting for them to return. Most made it back alive, many did not and then there were those nobody liked to think about - the ones who were out there somewhere and nobody knew for certain about their fate. They talked for a few minutes about being a commander and waiting.

"You're right, Hank, and Jack agrees too. He liked the SGC command, but he admitted his respect for me went up ten times after the first time a team was overdue. The waiting was the worst, sometimes worse than writing the letters to families. The not knowing and that's where we are now. Just as we have no control after a team goes through the gate, we have no control now."

"He'll be all right, he has to be," Landry pledged. "We should go ask him where he stashed the access cards." It was an excuse to go to the infirmary.

"You're right." Hammond suggested. Looking at his watch he confirmed, "And we don't have much time before the next presentation."

They were gathering their papers when Landry's beeping pager startled them both. Knowing it could be bad news from the infirmary, Hank hesitantly examined the small display.

TBC

1) Mention of an unnamed person from the TV show NCIS is just a reference. It's not a crossover. At least not in this story.

2) RDA has some color blindness, so in this story Jack does too.

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I didn't receive a single email message after the last chapter. Figure I lost some readers or maybe there's acceptance that this is not a romance of any kind. Or both. As always, feedback of all kinds in reviews and emails is appreciated and welcomed. :)

This story is fiction and I know very little about computers and computer security. It's just a story. It's not real. I read about color blindness in order to incorporate it. Sorry if I didn't get it right.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to Zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and everything else. :) All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.

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Previously in chapter 17 - They were gathering their papers when Landry's beeping pager startled them both. Knowing it could be bad news from the infirmary, Hank hesitantly examined the small display.

**Chapter 18**

Relieved, he shook his head, meaning it wasn't the infirmary. Then he said, "It's Major Walker," and went to return the call. After a short conversation with the duty officer he hung up the phone, a determined look on his face. "Commander Bishop is through security and on his way to the infirmary. They found contraband in Lieutenant Franklin's locker: two bottles of vodka, one bottle was almost empty." He sighed. "Blood samples will be secured to make sure there's nothing else." The shock of what had happened still plagued him. "The security tapes are in the safe and the presentation just ended." They'd skipped it, but he knew they should attend the next one. "SG-1 is up next."

"I suppose we should go then," Hammond replied a little reluctantly. He knew exactly how Hank was feeling regarding the contraband and the assault on Jack. Neither was something anyone would expect from the elite personnel stationed at Stargate Command. He wondered how long Hank would keep the civilian locked up, but elected not to say anything right then. His thoughts went back to Jack and how the man was doing in the infirmary.

Landry must have read his mind because he suggested, "I need to make one more call. Let's delay SG-1's presentation for a few minutes."

Hammond half smiled and Landry quickly made the call. Then they left the briefing room heading for the elevator to go up to the infirmary level. There wasn't much time, but maybe they could get an update from Hank's daughter and ask Jack about the cards.

*~*~*~*~*

Captain Guernsey checked the time and the monitors again. His operatives were not where he needed them to be. With the base locked down, nobody was free to wander around. They all had a place to be and a schedule to keep and if they weren't there, then they should be in a communal area. A quick look told him that Hammond and Landry were on their way to the infirmary and not far behind were the rest of the VIPs. Everybody was out of place and he slammed his hand down on the desk in frustration. They were all supposed to be going to the labs and conference rooms and when they deviated from the plan, his people had to deviate also.

He quickly switched camera views, looking for all the other unaccounted for personnel. He found most of them and again, because all those people were out of place, many of his security operatives were out of position too. Guernsey knew there would be another window of opportunity, but they needed to get things going soon while the mountain was still locked down. It would be their best chance.

He saw four SG teams heading for lunch in the canteen while the next shift security flight was still in the gym. He double checked the revised schedule and watched the monitors again, waiting for SG-1 to go from the commissary to the big lab on sub level 19 where he knew they were supposed to be soon. He hated when people didn't do what was expected.

*~*~*~*~*

"Shouldn't we be going?" Vala was her usual impatient self. SG-1's presentation had already been pushed back and she was anxious to get on with it.

"In a couple of minutes," Mitchell informed her. "They changed the time again."

Teal'c had been observing the others. Lunch had been good with no further outbursts from Daniel. He seemed to have gotten past his anger and even contributed to the meal conversation.

"I'm going. I'll meet you guys there," Carter told them, getting up from the table. Vala got up too and they left the three men alone.

"Tuna breath isn't a good thing to have so I'll meet you there too."

When it was only Daniel and Teal'c left, the big Jaffa stated flatly, "Why is Colonel Mitchell concerned his breath smells of tuna?" Daniel perked up, but just stared at him. "He did not consume tuna fish for lunch."

Daniel started laughing and got up from the table. "I had tuna." Shaking his head he told Teal'c, "C'mon, we're don't want to be late."

*~*~*~*~*

"General O'Neill, try to slow down your breathing," Dr. Lam tried to comfort and reassure the struggling man. With hands clenched into fists, he closed his eyes and breathed. In Mississippi out Mississippi, in Mississippi out Mississippi, in Mississippi out Mississippi and then he began to relax, the sudden onset of extreme dry heaves receding only slightly and the nausea still fairly bad. "That's it, slow and easy…breathe," she encouraged him.

"Compazine and Diazepam, Carolyn?" Dr. Bishop assumed, already preparing the syringe.

"Yes, he's tolerated Compazine well in the past. I probably should have given it to him earlier." Because he was a frequent visitor to the mountain base, Dr. Lam kept an abbreviated medical file on O'Neill, as well as a few others. She turned to look at the Navy Commander. Not certain he'd had time to review the chart, she told him, "He's had 1mg Diazepam."

Bishop had only had a few minutes to review O'Neill's chart, but remembered the medication list quite clearly. After preparing the dose of Compazine he handed it to her. Hopefully it would reduce the nausea. Then he drew up a quarter dose of Diazepam figuring that with the other medications it was a good start. They needed the man relaxed for the next procedure. The drug was good for lots of things and in this case to relax him and help with the muscle spasms. It wouldn't deal directly with pain, but it might help. They just couldn't risk giving him any narcotics, but maybe some acetaminophen would be beneficial. He'd ask her what she thought.

Focusing on her patient, she slowly administered the drug telling him, "You're doing fine, General. This should help with the nausea."

He had been doing fine, resting in fact after giving a brief statement to Colonel Hahn. Dr. Lam had given the security officer permission to talk to O'Neill, knowing it would only take a moment and probably wouldn't affect the injured man's condition. She'd sent a nurse to the holding cells because the woman involved couldn't stop crying and to take a blood sample from the Lieutenant. She was waiting for the nurse to return when Hahn had showed up. The minute he had spent with O'Neill was fine, but he hadn't learned anything because the General couldn't remember anything about what had happened. It was possible he would eventually remember, but more likely that he would not. That's what Dr. Lam told him as he was leaving O'Neill's room. He'd asked other questions about the man's condition, but wasn't told anything, citing patient confidentiality. He also decided he didn't have a need to know.

It was after Hahn left the room that the injured man's condition began to change. First they noticed O'Neill was more agitated and seemed more confused. He was having trouble focusing his eyes, and his attention. His words slurred when he spoke. Dr. Bishop performed a quick exam and found weakness in his extremities as well as loss of coordination. That was when they started the drugs for seizure prevention and brain swelling.

If all that wasn't bad enough, Jack had suddenly been more nauseous than he could ever remember. He'd had concussions before, even a skull fracture, but didn't remember it being as bad. He'd managed to stay still while they inserted another IV on the inside of his right forearm. Dr. Bishop had used a shot of Lidocaine first so the bigger needle having to go deeper had only been uncomfortable, not excruciatingly painful. Only Janet had ever used a local on him first. Most nurses and doctors just grabbed his arm and started poking... painfully. He'd been unconscious when they started the IV in his left wrist so he didn't know it they'd used a local or not. He only knew that neither IV was bothering him, and was thankful for that.

Dr. Lam watched him closely, all the while trying to encourage him to try to relax and let the medications work. Jack nodded slightly while still concentrating on slower breathing to try to take his mind off his gag reflex. And off his headache which was getting worse. The nurse brought the syringe with Diazepam to Dr. Lam as Dr. Bishop prepared two more.

Jack's head felt like it would explode. It wasn't nail-in-the-head pain. It was all encompassing, extreme pressure from left temple to right temple and back over the top all the way to his neck. Waiting on Dr. Lam, he couldn't take it anymore so he rolled onto his side and used the pillow to cover his head. The doctors hadn't attempted to stop him, not because they couldn't, but because they knew he was only trying to get more comfortable.

"I'm going to give you some medication through the IV that's going to relax you and it will make you a little bit drowsy," she admitted, knowing that in addition to the Compazine it would definitely make him lethargic. And that was exactly the result they wanted. She saw him push on the pillow, trying to ease the pain he was feeling and she inserted the needle into the port. Slowly delivering a small amount of the drug, she rested the back of her hand against his bare arm and sighed. She was not looking forward to telling him what they had planned.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

This is a corrected chapter 19. Thanks to Latergatr for correcting my bad about a DNR. See her slap me upside the head in her review. What I want to know is where was Latergatr when I wrote, rewrote, edited, rewrote, edited and finally said 'enough is enough' before I posted it? :) To everyone who is reading this story - please fell free to review and/or email me. I'd like to get this mostly right and sometimes I need help.

Thanks to Zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. I own nothing and this story is rated T.

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Previously in chapter 18 - "I'm going to give you some medication through the IV that's going to relax you and it will make you a little bit drowsy," she admitted, knowing that in addition to the Compazine it would definitely make him lethargic. And that was exactly the result they wanted. She saw him push on the pillow, trying to ease the pain he was feeling and she inserted the needle into the port. Slowly delivering a very small amount of the drug, the back of her hand rested against his bare arm, and she sighed. She was not looking forward to telling him what they had planned.

**Chapter 19**

She really didn't want to tell him about the needle they planned to put in his spinal canal, but she knew she had to. Dr. Lam decided she would wait until the medicine worked and he was not so restless or in as much pain before breaking that bit of news. They'd been closely monitoring his condition, and for a while he'd seemed to be doing well. But in the last fifteen minutes several things had changed. Now the length of time he'd been unconscious, the intermittent confusion, loss of memory, increasing slurred speech, the persistent severe headache and limb weakness had raised red flags, and the doctors didn't want to wait for more definitive signs of increasing cerebrospinal fluid pressure. If that happened, a spinal tap to measure the pressure wasn't always in the best interest of the patient. It was best to do it before that happened.

Dr. Lam watched Jack, waiting for a sign the drug was working. She kept the needle inserted in the port, but waited before administering more of the medication. In the back of her mind she was hoping that, if his condition worsened, they would not regret putting in standard peripheral IVs instead of a central line.

"Hate this," Jack muttered, his arm and hand firmly pressing the pillow onto his head. After only a few moments, his tense body crumpled a little when his muscles began to relax. His brown eyes remained open and his breathing steadied.

"That did the trick," Dr. Bishop whispered to Dr. Lam. He went ahead with the Prednisone injection and then checked the drip rate on the Dilantin though it was still too soon for a full maintenance dose. "I think we should leave the Mannitol level alone, what with the controversy about its effectiveness." O'Neill was being given both medications, as a precaution based on his changing symptoms.

She nodded. "My gut feeling is that he's going to need a neurological consult... sooner rather than later." There were two options; bring in another doctor or send Jack out. "I'll feel better knowing the CSF is normal."

"Yeah, me too," Bishop admitted. "If it isn't then he might need a neurosurgeon in addition to a neurologist." Looking sympathetically at Jack, he suggested, "I think we should try to get verbal consent before we give him anymore medication." Jack was looking very relaxed which is what they wanted, but they also needed him awake and aware. They were prepared to treat him whether he gave his consent or not, but they'd rather he knew what they were going to do.

Nodding her understanding, she softly replied, "Someone should call General Landry. He and the President's group wanted to know when anything changed, and this changes everything." She removed the syringe from the IV port and capped it. Dr. Bishop handed her the last syringe he had prepared.

"Versed?" He nodded. "You read my mind, Nathan. We shouldn't use Demerol," she stated in agreement with his choice as she popped the capped syringe into her pocket. Versed and Demerol together were common for conscious sedation, but because of Jack's head injury, they needed to be very careful with pain medication. Pain - lessening, increasing or changing in some other way - was a diagnostic tool. Tough for the patient, but valuable to the doctors. And narcotics would alter his state of consciousness too.

Dr. Bishop had an idea. "What about Acetaminophen?"

Dr. Lam looked at him and, smiling slightly, she nodded. It was a good idea, but they couldn't give it to him by mouth because of the vomiting. "I believe we have some 650mg suppositories." She looked at a nurse who was nearby and the woman understood right away that she should go find them. Dr. Lam addressed Bishop. "Shouldn't interfere with the head injury. Good call."

"If the pressure is too high…" He hesitated and she finished his thought. "We will need to send him to the Academy right away. Let's make sure a helicopter is on standby." A helicopter, in fact three of them were available immediately for the President, but maybe one could be used for O'Neill. She quickly sent a nurse to make the phone calls and then squeezed O'Neill's hand.

"General O'Neill, I hope you're feeling a little better. Dr. Bishop and I need to speak with you."

Jack struggled a little to open his eyes, but managed it. At least the lights had been turned down. Two blurry blobs were in view and he concentrated on listening to them as they explained his condition and what they wanted to do. When he asked how many, they knew what he was asking. The older Bishop had done over 350 and Lam about 30.

He'd had a lumbar puncture before and had hated it, but a head injury was serious business. He made up his mind that he'd rather it be done by them than by somebody else. And he knew that would happen if he didn't get better and they shipped him off to the Academy hospital. They told him what they were going to do. Not details, he didn't want exact, gory, descriptive details. Just the basic facts.

They told him about the medications he was already getting and the ones he would get, and how they would be administered. They told him about laying still and mostly flat for one to four hours afterward and also that they wanted to put in a catheter. He knew from experience that a urinary catheter was a necessary evil, and while he didn't understand why he had to have one now, he really didn't care. Maybe some discomfort somewhere else would take his mind off his pounding head. Except that hadn't worked with the severe muscle spasms in his neck and shoulders, or the knee pain. But maybe.

Fighting the worsening headache, and hearing what they said about conscious sedation, he resigned himself to letting them do whatever they wanted. Closing his eyes he told them to go ahead.

The nurse came back in to tell them that Generals Landry and Hammond had arrived in the infirmary before she could call and that the helicopter was available and ready. They would need authorization to take the SGC out of lockdown to remove the General and whatever medical personnel went with him though.

"General O'Neill, we're going to give you some more medication now," Dr. Lam explained.

He barely nodded, willing to just relax and let them go ahead, but suddenly changed his mind and rasped, "Get Hammond and Landry... first." He needed to talk to those two friends before the doctors gave him anymore drugs.

Dr. Lam waited, holding the syringe while a medic left to get the Generals. He was back immediately with the two men in tow. The doctors quickly explained about the LP and possible outcomes, and that O'Neill had asked for them before he got more drugs. Doctors Lam and Bishop retreated to the back of the room by the door, but didn't leave.

"We're here ,Jack," Hammond told his friend, his blue gray eyes revealing both sadness and hope.

Jack opened his eyes to slits, grateful the room lights were still turned down. He knew his friends were there, but he couldn't really see them, and just didn't have the strength to open his eyes any wider. His head hurt so darn bad and he just wanted it to stop.

"Hey Jack," Landry started, wondering if O'Neill was going to ask him what happened again.

"I trust Carolyn, Hank," O'Neill assured him in a low breathy voice. In case there was a bad outcome, he needed Hank to know that he didn't blame the man's daughter.

"Me too, Jack. You're going to be fine," he confidently replied. Landry stepped back from the bed so Hammond could get closer.

"Gen... ral," Jack whispered, his eyes closing for a long moment before opening again.

"I'm here, Jack. I'm right here," Hammond confirmed as a chair was pushed up behind him by Dr. Lam. He quickly sat down, offering a thankful glance to the woman.

"George," O'Neill whispered again, uncharacteristically using his friend's first name. "Prom…ss" Under half open lids, his eyes searched his friend's face.

"You have my word," George Hammond promised. He knew exactly what the man was talking about.

"Thanss," O'Neill slurred his reply, a half smile on his face.

"Now let these people help you. You're going to be fine."

"Yessss...r."

Dr. Lam looked at Hammond, wondering what he had promised. The retired General saw her questioning expression and whispered so Jack couldn't hear. "He has a living will*." Already knowing about the medical POA, she nodded gravely, hoping and praying it wouldn't come to that, but understanding completely because she had the same thing for herself. She knew most of the SGC personnel had the same documents.

She whispered to Hammond. "Updated since he was stationed here?"

Hammond nodded and softly replied, "Three months ago."

Her look indicated approval, since review of such measures should be made on a regular basis. "General, we need to get started," Dr. Lam reaffirmed not just for her patient, but for his visitors, both Generals too.

"Kay," Jack whispered, almost too soft for anyone to hear.

Jack knew what they were going to do and why. If something happened and this didn't work out, he trusted Hammond to carry out his directives. George Hammond was Jack's advocate in case he couldn't make decisions for himself. Since there was no way to predict the outcome of the procedure, he was glad Hammond was nearby to make the call if necessary.

A long pause was followed by a low groan, the sound unmistakable as they observed Jack. His mouth was open with his vision seemingly fixed on one spot, his brown eyes appearing lifeless. Landry glanced at his doctor daughter and was alarmed by her concerned expression. Hammond, who was closest, patted his friend's arm and called out, "Jack, you still with us?"

TBC

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Living Will - usually refers to an advance medical directive. There are three forms, basically - living will, durable power of attorney (POA) and health care proxy. What they are called sometimes depends on the state or country where you live. The standard forms aren't always clear for unique situations so an attorney can define your desires a little better. When you're serious about these decisions, it's important to make your wishes clearly known. Not sure if the military has standard forms that will work for wherever a person lives. For this story, Jack has entrusted all the power for making the necessary decisions to his friend, George Hammond. (A short bit about a personal experience I had with these documents is on my profile page)


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input. They're both under the weather so think good healing thoughts because the next chapters are on hold until the two of them are feeling better. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. I own nothing and this story is rated T. Concerns? Please contact me right away.

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Previously in chapter 19 - A long pause was followed by a low groan, the sound unmistakable as they observed Jack. His mouth was open with his vision seemingly fixed on one spot, his brown eyes appearing lifeless. Landry glanced at his doctor daughter and was alarmed by her concerned expression. Hammond, who was closest, patted his friend's arm and called out, "Jack, you still with us?"

**Chapter 20**

Dr. Bishop was standing closest to the bed so he immediately stepped up and performed a quick exam, looking intently into Jack's eyes and putting a stethoscope on his chest. He then observed his breathing while a nurse put a cuff on Jack's upper arm to check his blood pressure. Dr. Lam looked relieved when Bishop nodded slightly, indicating that the injured O'Neill was all right.

"He's okay for now, but we need to get this done," she told the visitors, while on the other side of the bed Bishop gently closed Jack's eyelids the rest of the way.

"General O'Neill has an excellent chance for a full recovery, even with this possible complication," the other SGC doctor softly volunteered. He smiled slightly and then left the treatment room.

Hammond knew that he and Landry needed to get going so he gave a final pat and a reassuring squeeze to his friend's shoulder before whispering something meant only for Jack to hear.

Jack couldn't see. He couldn't smell. He couldn't taste. He couldn't move or feel… much of anything, except his headache. It was the drugs he told himself, since he also didn't care that he couldn't see, smell, taste or feel. For a moment he thought he couldn't hear either, until from the silence he heard his good friend softly say, "Godspeed, Jack."

The affirmation calmed and reassured him. Sure, sometimes Hammond had used Godspeed when a team went through the gate on a dangerous and possibly fatal mission, and there were times when Jack had nudged him into saying it. But he had used it other times too. Safe journey, a successful endeavor, yeah, both of those fit his circumstance perfectly. Ol' George was confident that he'd be okay and he was usually right. Trusting in his good friend's prophecy, Jack let himself drift, knowing what they were going to do and grateful that he didn't care. And while his head still hurt, somehow it was not so bad.

"Please do your best, Doctors," Hammond told them kindly, his face revealing both affection and sadness as he watched another medic come into the room.

Dr. Lam nodded slightly and determinedly replied, "We will, Sirs," as she watched the medic lift the sheet from Jack's torso. The medical personnel didn't wait for the Generals to leave. They got busy right away preparing O'Neill and gathering the necessary supplies and equipment.

Landry and Hammond had forgotten to ask O'Neill about the key cards, and looking in his uniform pockets never occurred to them. Thoughts of the security threat and SGC test were forgotten for the moment, replaced by what was happening to their friend. As they went out the door, the two men glanced back in time to see a nurse with a Foley catheter and they both cringed. Entering the main infirmary section, they saw that the President, SecDef , SecAF and Mantley were there talking to a nurse. As they approached, the President turned from the others to speak to them.

Hayes saw the sorrow in the men's eyes. Wanting to know, yet not wanting to at the same time, he hesitantly asked, "George?" The President's questioning voice was soft and caring.

Hammond swallowed and then explained, his sadness palpable. "One second he was there, looking right at us. The next second he groaned and was out of it, but his eyes were still open... staring."

After a brief moment of silence Landry admitted, "I was worried... and then Carolyn told us he was okay for now." Everyone could see how what happened had unnerved the two men. Heck, it would have been disturbing for anybody. Landry felt the need to escape and was grateful when he saw Colonel Hahn near the door, so he excused himself and went to speak to him. The President and others present were aware of the close friendship between Hammond and O'Neill. The men had served closely for seven years, surviving everything the universe had thrown at them before Hammond went to Washington. Their friendship was born from shared experiences, the successes and the losses. When O'Neill took command, that friendship grew even stronger.

They hadn't always gotten along or agreed. And more than once, evidence of that had made it not only to the Pentagon, but to the Oval Office. It was the mutual respect and genuine affection they had for each other, combined with the desire to keep the United States and Earth safe and secure that drove them. They had accepted what was expected of them. They had accepted what they were required to do. It wasn't easy and had taken a toll on both men, but they had made it through.

Hammond looked like he needed a friend so Mantley put a steadying hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "He's going to be all right, George."

"Damn right he is," Hammond responded, hoping he sounded convincing. Quickly recovering his composure, he nodded to Mantley and the hand disappeared.

Hayes spoke to the nurse, asking her to contact them as soon as they knew something and then Landry was back. If Jack needed to be airlifted, the authorization was in place with a helicopter just minutes away. With Landry's permission, the duty officer could make the call to interrupt the lockdown, assuming Dr. Lam determined it was necessary. Landry had also explained that any personnel leaving with Jack could return only after the President departed. There wasn't anything left for any of them to do, so the six men left the infirmary heading for the elevator and the next presentation.

*~*~*~*~*

Captain Guernsey heard the duty officer confirming the possibility of lifting the lockdown to remove O'Neill from the mountain, and his gut twisted. The event would initiate numerous phone calls between the SGC and the Academy Hospital and he couldn't allow that. He flipped some switches and quickly checked the monitors. Most of the SGC personnel were exactly where they were supposed to be, or where he expected them to be. The few that weren't would not be a problem when the time came. Knowing he wouldn't be alone for long, he concentrated on sub levels 5, 8, 16, 19, 20 and 24, as well as the elevators. His people were in position, waiting to get the word. He sat back and smiled. It was almost too easy. Then he heard footfalls from the corridor and managed to switch the displays right before the other officer came through the door.

"Major, you're back early," Guernsey greeted him, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

The other man grumbled, "Not really." He did not like the newest addition to Stargate Command. Putting aside his personal feelings, he asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, it's quiet," he offered and then asked, "What's the word on O'Neill?"

The other officer turned to glare at him and realizing his error, Guernsey sat up stiffly and quickly corrected his inquiry. "Pardon me, Sir. What's the word on General O'Neill?" He consciously kept his expression neutral and watched the man's eyes scrutinizing him. After a few seconds he saw the very moment the superior officer excused his insubordination and rudeness, and he forced himself not to react.

The Major straightened some papers on the desk, stated, "Don't know yet," and then turned away, leaving Guernsey to observe the monitors.

*~*~*~*~*

Dr. Bishop, who had performed many LPs, knew they could have O'Neill ready very quickly and wanted to make sure the man received the full benefit of the drug they planned to give him. Knowing Dr. Lam had the prepared syringe in her white coat pocket, he suggested, "Let's push the Versed." He didn't know that Dr. Lam had a plan that would ensure Jack got the most from the medication.

Earlier Dr. Bishop had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Dr. Lam and the other infirmary doctor were still wearing the standard long white lab coat and he made a mental note to ask about the SGC policy regarding white coats while attending patients, especially those patients with bacterial infections. He was curious about the Air Force Academy hospital too. Many hospitals were kicking around adopting the policy of bare below the elbows to avoid transporting bacteria and even viruses between patients on their coat sleeves, literally.

With hospital infections being so common and prevalent, it wasn't a bad idea. Amazingly the loudest outcry was coming from the doctors themselves who insisted that they had to look like doctors and had to wear the white coat for the professionalism that it implied. Dr. Bishop took that to mean, to heck with the patient, we have to look like we're important. He remembered as a student wearing a short white coat and how proud he was to get the long one when he became a resident. It was a true rite of passage, but he wanted to believe that if he had known then what he knew now that he would have been okay with ditching the coat and rolling up his sleeves.

Jack had been laying on his side when Dr. Lam administered the dose of Versed. The result had been immediate and he was suddenly a lot more pliant and pliable. So relaxed that someone was able to easily remove the pillow which he had steadfastly pressed against his head. A nurse brought in a tray of instruments, dressings and two bottles; one containing a special soap and the other a yucky brown liquid. A medic positioned a high intensity lamp by adjusting the extension arm and everything was ready for them to get started.

The medications allowed them to position Jack, without a single complaint from him, in any way they needed. Jack decided the drugs were working pretty well because he hadn't cared when they pulled down his scrub pants and inserted the Foley catheter. In fact, it wasn't bad at all. He remembered Janet Fraiser using a topical anesthetic in addition to lubricant the last time he'd needed one and wondered if this group had done the same. Group? He didn't even want to think about how many people had seen him before and during the placement of his new catheter, or who would see him now.

Jack didn't notice that they hadn't pulled his scrubs back up. He was barely aware when they turned him back onto his side and pulled his knees up, but he wasn't uncomfortable so he didn't care. And he knew when they were ready to put the needle in that his knees would be pulled up even farther until they were almost touching his chest. He felt a little flushed and figured they had given him some more medication. Remembering Hammond's words, Jack willed his body to relax. He knew he'd feel the needles soon enough. Remembering a meditation technique, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The three doctors saw Jack crumple a little more and heard him exhale long and slow. His eyes were closed and he hadn't resisted anything they had done so far, thanks in part to the medication. The doctors and attending staff immediately re-gloved.

Many of the tasks normally left to nurses and medics were performed by Dr. Lam, Dr. Bishop and the additional SGC doctor. They weren't adverse to leaving those tasks to the staff, but they didn't have any other patients and they had a special interest in General O'Neill. Jack didn't notice when a nasal cannula was put under his nose and the tubing looped around his ears. He didn't care when the hospital gown was pulled away from his back and left to rest on his arms. He didn't hear the click of the pulse-ox meter when it snapped or feel the pressure of it when it went into place trapping his index finger. He didn't notice when someone checked his IVs and cardiac leads.

He didn't feel the additional flush from some more medication rushing into his veins. He didn't react when hands held him and his cheeks were gently pulled apart so a gloved finger could push the Acetaminophen suppository inside him. He didn't notice when someone's fingertips felt his lower vertebrae before marking his skin with a pen. He didn't smell the surgical soap when they opened the bottle. He didn't feel the coldness of the liquid antiseptic cleansing his skin.

He didn't feel the surgical drape as it was put into place or even flinch from the sting of the local injection. And when he did feel the pressure of being held to keep still and the bite of the long thin needle as it was inserted into his spinal canal, Jack suddenly felt the rush from another IV injection and while he was a little uncomfortable, he didn't care. That was until intense pain had him wishing for more drugs.

TBC

Yucky brown liquid - I think it's stuff called Betadine

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My betas, zeilfanaat and bats212, will hopefully be feeling better very soon. I won't rush them. They'll start reading again when they're ready.

All forms of feedback are welcome and appreciated. Reviews are wonderful and email works too. :)


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.

This story is rated T. If you disagree or have concerns, please contact me immediately.

* * *

Previously in chapter 20 - He didn't feel the coldness of the liquid antiseptic cleansing his skin. He didn't feel the surgical drape as it was put into place or even flinch from the sting of the local injection. And when he did feel the pressure of being held to keep still, and the bite of the long thin needle as it was inserted into his spinal canal, Jack suddenly felt the rush from another IV injection, and while he was a little uncomfortable, he didn't care. That was until intense pain had him wishing for more drugs.

**Chapter 21**

"All right Sam, what have you heard?" Daniel was still upset about everything.

"Daniel, we're due for our presentation," she reminded him.

"I know, but haven't you heard the rumor?"

"What rumor, Jackson? C'mon, we have got to go," Mitchell insisted, after coming through the door. He saw Sam and Daniel start to get up from their chairs and reached over to grab the file folders.

The three members of SG-1 headed for sub level 19 with Daniel lagging a little behind. After the presentation about the Ori they would go to another lab on sub level 18 for a technology demonstration. As they neared the elevator, Vala and Teal'c were coming down a corridor from the other way.

"Muscles was just telling me that there was some kind of disturbance earlier," Vala quipped as they all boarded the elevator. A reluctant SF got on too and pushed a button for a different sub level.

"There**,** see – that's what I heard too," Daniel whined. He turned to the SF and asked, "What do you know about it? Security always knows everything."

"Daniel, leave him alone," Carter ordered without looking at either man. Nobody was looking at the SF or they would have seen the relief on his face. He'd been on the response team that accompanied the medical personnel to the stairwell and knew all about what had happened to General O'Neill.

"What did you hear, Teal'c?" Daniel just couldn't leave it alone.

The big Jaffa tilted his head and said simply, "I heard nothing, but I believe someone else did."

Daniel almost laughed out loud. "What did someone else hear?"

"That there was a disturbance. It may have been someone attempting to access the lower levels."

"Who told you that?"

"I believe it was Captain Proctor." Proctor was a member of SG-22 and had been upstairs at the anniversary celebration.

"Wait." Mitchell jumped in. "That happened before Sam and I came down. I thought you were talking about something happening here."

Teal'c's eyebrow rose up his forehead as he looked at Daniel. "Apparently not."

The elevator stopped and the SF disembarked. He was glad he wouldn't be around in case someone asked him another question. As the doors closed, Daniel went off on another tangent.

"Why did the SG team leaders go ahead of us?" Nobody responded to Daniel's rant. "They were supposed to go after us." The other team members were suddenly aware that Daniel was still harboring some anger – probably about O'Neill, but it was carrying over into everything else. "And then they delayed us another 15 minutes? I thought the almighty schedule was so important."

The elevator doors opened, and they immediately saw the secret service. If they hadn't been sure about where to go, they were now, just by the security presence alone. They stepped out and began making their way to the room down the hall, but were stopped midway for a security check. A few moments later they entered the meeting room where their audience was already waiting for them.

They filed in and acknowledged the President, SecDef, SecAF and Generals Mantley, Landry and Hammond**,** along with Major Davis. Carter and Mitchell were slated to start**,**so they remained standing while Teal'c, Daniel and Vala sat down across the table from the VIPs. With pleasantries over, the overhead projector was turned on and they got started.

*~*~*~*~*

"You're doing fine, General. We're just finishing up and then we'll do our best to get you comfortable," the doctor tried to reassure him after the lumbar puncture hadn't gone well. The Versed would diminish his memory of the procedure, so that hopefully the extremely vivid and painful moments would be mostly forgotten, or at least muted."

A procedure that would usually take about 30 minutes or 45 at the most, had taken well over an hour and had been difficult for both the patient and the medical professionals, though for obvious reasons more difficult for Jack. Due probably to scar tissue in his lower back, they had great difficulty with the needle, and after three attempts still hadn't gotten it positioned correctly. Dr Bishop had had to start the procedure over, and it had taken a long time to correctly insert the needle. With the needle at the right depth and angle, they had been ready to measure the pressure. When they had straightened his legs, Jack experienced excruciating pain.

Jack had been drifting, willing his mind to ignore what they were doing to his body. They had been holding him, but not tight enough when suddenly every nerve in his lower back, backside and legs had been on fire, and he had instinctively moved, causing even more pain. The last 40 minutes had been relaxation, alternating with piercing burning pain, which sometimes got turned up a few notches to agonizing. Finally the closing pressure reading had been taken. Jack gasped as the weight holding him down eased and finally released, and his legs were pulled back up toward his chest for the last time.

Then someone had cleaned and bandaged the puncture sites on his back, before gently repositioning his scrub pants, leaving the drawstring loose, and wrapping and retying the cloth gown around him. Jack had been relieved when the foam collar was put back around his neck, and the plastic suction tube gently removed from his mouth. He hadn't even realized he'd been drooling until sometime during the procedure someone had carefully positioned a suction tube in the corner of his mouth.

"Let's turn him to port," the Navy doctor instructed as a medic moved to the opposite side of the bed. Flipping the draw sheet up and over Jack's midsection, a nurse placed her hands under his hip and shoulder.

"Easy does it, Sir," she told him sympathetically.

The medic held the draw sheet**,** and Jack grunted softly as the man pulled the sheet bearing his weight toward him**,** while the nurse guided Jack gently onto his back. The head of the bed was elevated slightly. When Jack was positioned, the nurse put the draw sheet back into place and checked the nasal cannula before applying a blood pressure cuff, while the doctor checked the cardiac monitoring leads, the IVs, and the Foley. Though Jack was drugged, he was not unconscious**,** and the doctor didn't want to startle him into thinking he was being fondled.

"General O'Neill, I need to check and maybe adjust the catheter… with my hand," he explained. Jack didn't speak, but he did open his eyes to slits and was able to nod slightly. He hated urinary catheters, but thank goodness this one was not bothering him yet. They hadn't taped it to his thigh**,** and he was glad of that since they would either have had to shave him or rip out hair when the catheter was removed.

Carefully reaching into Jack's scrub pants, both through the fly and through the slit in the fabric they'd cut earlier, the doctor repositioned the Foley catheter and made sure there wasn't any tension. Jack had been insistent on wearing pants**,** and Bishop had understood completely. He removed his gloves, tossing them into a nearby hazardous waste bin**,** and then reached for the instrument draped around his neck before placing his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I need to listen to your heart, General. The stethoscope may be a little bit cold," he warned Jack.

He rubbed it in his palm for a few seconds before slipping it beneath the neck of the hospital gown. Listening intently, he watched the man, but observed no reaction other than him closing his eyes. He hadn't listened to Jack's heart and lungs when the man had been on his side, and now he couldn't bring himself to ask the injured man to sit up. Instead he slid the stethoscope around the sides of Jack's chest, almost reaching his back.

The nurse finished taking Jack's blood pressure and then checked the urine collection bag. When she had finished her official duties, she used a dampened cloth to gently wipe Jack's mouth and cheek where he still had some spittle. Jack appreciated the gesture, but couldn't find the strength to even open his eyes, let alone say anything to her.

"I need to check your temperature, General O'Neill," Bishop told him, and Jack opened his mouth a little so the plastic sheath could pop in under his tongue. As he closed his lips around it, he was reminded that they could have taken his temperature the other way. As soon as the temp unit beeped, Bishop removed it from Jack's mouth and looked at Lam.

"He's stable, Carolyn," he told his fellow physician who was standing nearby.

She looked over at the patient and pulled up a chair. Placing her hand on his, she saw his eyes open, the distress diminished yet still evident, and his slight trepidation palpable.

"We're finished for now," she told him. "I know it was difficult and… I'm truly sorry." She silently prayed the Versed would work. O'Neill had an extremely high pain threshold, so to have him suffering was distressful, and made it very difficult for her to remain objective.

Her apology was genuine, but Jack didn't reply, just blinked long and hard. His brain was foggy and he wasn't comfortable on his back. The rough procedure wasn't her fault, and truth be told, he'd been through much worse in his life. He also knew when to stay quiet and just let the docs apologize.

Opening his eyelids a little wider, he watched them patiently watching him. A few seconds later, after getting his thoughts together, Jack finally asked, "How 'm I?"

TBC

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Feedback in reviews and/or email is encouraged and appreciated. I love reading what you're thinking. :)


	22. Chapter 22

Thank you to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing. This story is rated T. If you disagree or have concerns, please contact me immediately.

* * *

Previously in chapter 21 - Opening his eyelids a little wider he watched them patiently watching him. A few seconds later after getting his thoughts together, he finally asked, "How 'm I?"

**Chapter 22**

Dr. Lam hesitated, but finally told him. "We're not sure yet. The intracranial pressure is a little higher than it should be, but not horribly high. Your spinal fluid may tell the story though, and we're waiting for the lab report. It should be ready in a few minutes." She briefly explained about determining the difference between blood from the injury and blood from the procedure, but not because Jack looked like he cared. She was just used to keeping her patients informed.

Jack knew a little about spinal fluid and blood where it didn't belong. The SGC doctors were among the best in the world, and the President's doctor was no slouch, but he knew if they found something that his best chance was with a specialist. If he needed an invasive procedure or surgical operation on his skull it would be better for him to be treated at the Academy Hospital.

"You need to rest, General. We'll know soon enough what's going on and we'll let you know." She got up and moved the chair back while a nurse raised the side rails on the infirmary bed.

A medic came in carrying a flat pillow and gently positioned it under O'Neill's head. Jack's eyelids fluttered, closed, opened again and then finally closed for good. A while later when he opened his eyes the lights were dimmed and he was a little more comfortable. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his body. Someone had placed both of his arms on pillows and another was positioned under his knees which helped take some pressure off his back. Some heat packs were cradling his shoulders and he could feel the slight weight of the top sheet and lightweight blanket which covered him up to the middle of his chest.

Jack drifted and dozed again. When he next woke up, he listened to whispered voices for several seconds before opening his eyes. Lam and another SGC doctor were sitting by his bedside and standing next to them was another guy. He blinked hard and squinted a little before his vision cleared enough for him to see that it was the President's doctor. Jack was surprised that he had forgotten all about the President and the presentations. His head was starting to hurt a little worse and then someone put a hand on his arm.

"Hey," Jack greeted them. He was still having some trouble seeing so he closed his eyes.

"Hey yourself," Dr. Lam softly replied, watching her patient.

A happy memory of a grinning, giggling Charlie quipping, "Hay is for horses," brought just a hint of a smile to Jack's mouth, before the noise of a chair sliding on the floor distracted him. With his eyes tightly closed he heard a man clear his throat. Someone wanted his attention.

"Sir," Dr. Lam addressed her patient, gently patting his arm to get his attention. He didn't respond so she tried again. "General O'Neill?"

Jack opened his eyes to slits, his head pounding. Thank goodness the lights were still dimmed or it would have been real torture.

Concerned, she softly asked him, "Headache worse?" He barely nodded, the aggravating action causing the pain in his noggin to seriously spike.

"Just stay with us for a couple of minutes, okay?" She watched him stare and then blink in response instead of trying to nod or speak, testament to how badly he was feeling. "We think we should move you to the Academy Hospital."

She watched Jack's face as the information registered and then he scowled. He didn't want to go. He was in pain and by his own admission felt like crap, but he seemed to comprehend what she was saying, so she explained. "Your spinal fluid has blood in it and your intracranial pressure may continue to rise." He wasn't buying it. "Sir, you were unconscious for over…" She stopped when she saw him grimace.

Jack's jaw clenched hard, but several seconds later he seemed to relax just a bit. Not waiting for him to open his eyes she told him, "The amount of blood isn't very much. It could be from nothing more than a small vessel that broke when you hit your head. It's also possible that it's something much more serious. We just don't know." She needed to stress the risk in waiting. "Your condition could be stable one minute and go rapidly downhill the next."

Jack had listened. It was difficult to concentrate, but he had heard and understood every word. Something else he heard was worry. In her voice. In her tone. In the way her hand stayed on his arm. Opening his eyes, he looked at the three doctors looking back at him. Dr. Lam seemed to be silently evaluating him. He knew the name of the other SGC doctor, but he had not had any previous contact with him. Dr. Bishop was the one with the most experience involving head injuries so he concentrated on him.

There had to be something else they could do. Janet Fraiser had always stressed how head injuries were not only unpredictable, but sometimes misdiagnosed. With anything more than a minor concussion, she had usually rerun a test, just to make sure. And sometimes time was all that was needed. He liked Carolyn Lam and Nathan Bishop seemed like an okay guy, but he caught himself wishing that Janet Fraiser was taking care of him.

"Tests," Jack muttered, doing his best not to glare at him through his heavy eyelids. "More tests... and time." Lacking the strength for anything more, he slowly closed his eyes.

The three doctors talked for a little over a minute before coming to a consensus. It was Dr. Lam who spoke to him. "General O'Neill, we know you don't want to go." She waited while his lids lifted slightly and she could see his brown irises. "It's possible that a followup CT could show us something."

Thankful that a CT wouldn't add to his discomfort, Jack barely acknowledged his understanding before Dr. Bishop chimed in. "We'll get another CT before we make the final decision to move you." His tone didn't leave any room for argument. If and when they decided he should go – he knew he would.

Jack knew they wouldn't move him unless it was necessary. He didn't want to go, but he didn't want to risk complications or even death by delaying treatment. Under normal circumstances the doctors were more than capable of taking care of him. If they thought he should go to the Academy it was because he needed more than they could provide and he didn't have a reason to not to trust their judgment. Except for the headache and unspecified blood in his spinal fluid there wasn't anything wrong with him. Dr. Lam said his intracranial pressure was on the high side, but not horrible, so that just meant the high side of normal. If it was a real concern they'd have moved him out of the mountain by now.

The doctors seemed to be waiting for something. Wondering, Jack just looked at them and then blinked long and slow before gazing at them again. Suddenly the lights in the room brightened and his headache went up a notch, almost undoing him. Dr. Bishop reached past the medic to the dimmer switch, but it was too late.

Jack's eyes had snapped tightly shut. The nausea had returned full force and his headache was blinding. "I nee…," his breath came out in a groaning sigh as he drew both hands into fists. He didn't even know what he needed, but the doctors did and the SGC doc went to a tray with medical instruments and drugs.

"I know you're hurting, Sir," Dr. Lam told Jack. Of course she knew. Everybody in the room knew. He started to turn, to list a little, hoping to roll onto his side and curl up in a fetal position, but large strong hands prevented him.

Dr. Bishop wouldn't let Jack move. "You don't have to stay on your back for too much longer." If Jack could have, he would have pushed against the resistance and found a way to get onto his side. He tried to raise his hands to his head, but didn't seem to have the strength.

Dr. Lam implored, "Please try to rest." She saw the reaction on his face before he barely tipped his head in affirmation. "I know you don't want to go. We'll wait as long as we can," she added softly, watching his jaw clench and relax before clenching again.

The syringe appeared in front of Dr. Lam before she could get up and she accepted it from the other SGC doctor. They needed to be careful with pain medication, but unnecessary suffering was not an option.

"Diazepam?" The doctor nodded. Dr. Lam had almost injected it without asking. She had assumed it was more of the drug since he hadn't had a full dose and while they could have given him more Versed, the Diazepam would last longer.

She injected the drug knowing it would not make the pain in his head go away, but it would help with keeping him relaxed, ease the muscle spasms and keep him a little drowsy. On his back was the best position for him to be in while they got another CT scan. She watched as his tight jaw released, his fisted hands relaxed and he exhaled sharply.

When it appeared Jack was finally a bit more comfortable, the doctors relaxed too, and after checking him, they instructed the medic to take him for the additional test.

TBC

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Feedback in review or email is appreciated. Thanks to LadyMo for previewing this chapter, which was all Jack. SG-1 returns in 23.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input, but all errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing. This story is rated T. If you disagree or have concerns, please contact me immediately.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

"Does anybody want to speculate on why Jack wasn't at our presentations?"

Daniel's question was heard by everyone sitting at the group of tables in the commissary. He probably only cared about the opinions of his teammates, but there were a few other people within earshot. Two members of SG-9 got up from their table and quickly left the canteen without speaking. Two civilians, both looking uncomfortable made a quick exit too.

SG-1 team members exchanged looks before Carter saw Daniel looking her way and she responded by shaking her head. Vala opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again. Teal'c tilted his head slightly, but said nothing. Mitchell didn't mind answering. He figured Jackson already had a theory and was just playing with them now anyway.

"Maybe he had something better to do?" He sipped some water, picked up another pretzel and glared at the archaeologist. The presentations had lasted over 60 minutes, not counting the security checks and travel time going between sub levels 18 and 19. SG-1's time with the VIPs had gone exactly as planned, even to staying within the time constraints, which was something that Carter and Daniel weren't always able to do.

"Right," Daniel snidely replied. He was silent for a few seconds before firing at a different target. "And did you notice how aloof Landry was?" His hands were slicing through the air. "Hammond too. They didn't let us stay and chat at all." he wasn't fond of the military, but usually managed to say the men's names without so much animosity.

"Perhaps they did not have time for small talk," Teal'c suggested before biting down on a pretzel. He made a point of crunching it especially hard so it made a lot of noise. Carter and Mitchell ducked their heads and tried not to giggle.

"Daniel, President Hayes didn't chat so they probably didn't feel like they could either." Vala grinned and rubbed Daniel's arm while she attempted to smooth over any bad feelings. It wasn't working though. His posture was still, his expression hooded and his eyebrows durrowed.

The team sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the other SGC personnel coming and going. Some came to hang out while others got food and drink. Those choosing to sit must have been forewarned because they all selected tables away from SG-1.

Daniel didn't seem to notice and tossed out another question. "Where was Jodie Templeton?" He didn't wait for an answer before plowing forward. "Her research team went on right behind us. She wasn't with them in the corridor when we came out."

"You see conspiracies everywhere, Daniel," Carter tried to joke.

"I also did not see Dr. Templeton," Teal'c admitted. He waited to see if anyone else wanted to offer an opinion. Nobody spoke up so he continued. "This morning at the reception**,** she told Sergeant Harriman that she was looking forward to her presentation. The naquadah research has been most successful."

"Something is going on and I don't like it," Daniel whined, rubbing his palms on the table cloth.

"Oh come on Jackson, there's nothing going on. These pretzels aren't going to hold me and Teal'c for long. Let's get up there and get a real snack." Mitchell recommended, giving the Jaffa a meaningful look.

"I don't want anything," Daniel grumbled, not even craving coffee. "You guys go ahead."

Mitchell shrugged and he, Carter and Teal'c made their way to the serving line. They didn't want too much since it was roast beef night, but pie and coffee, blue Jello and iced tea, and fresh fruit and water with lemon would probably satisfy the three team members.

Vala had stayed with Daniel, but when she saw what the others had brought to the table, she scampered to the serving line, returning quickly with four ultimate chocolate chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk. Vala dipped a cookie in the milk and tried to get Daniel to take a bite. She thought the double dose of chocolate might help pacify him, but he kept waving her off. She happily dunked and munched, but after a few minutes Daniel had had enough. "I'm going to go find Jack," he defiantly announced.

Mitchell was suddenly the voice of reason. "I thought the General said he didn't know when he'd have time to talk. He sounded pretty certain that it wouldn't be before this evening." He reached over in front of Vala and snagged a cookie that had been left unguarded.

Daniel glared at him. Was it for his comment, or because he was a cookie thief? The archaeologist didn't reply to Mitchell's remark, turning his gaze to Carter in an unspoken appeal. He was disappointed when she jumped into the fray.

"I remember that too. Daniel." The archaeologist didn't respond so she proclaimed, "What are you going to do? You can't just go wandering around the President's VIP quarters looking for him."

"Sure I can," he glared at the blond member of SG-1. He rose from the chair and headed for the door with Vala grabbing her last cookie with a napkin and scrambling to catch-up.

She arrived at the elevator just as Daniel swiped his access card. He noticed her and waved his hand for her to go first when the door opened.

"Where are we going, Daniel?" Her tone implied they were off on some kind of adventure. He boarded the elevator right behind her, swiped his card again and pushed the button for his intended destination..

"I was wondering where to start until I got here and then it came to me," he confided.

The elevator stopped on 25 and the doors parted to reveal two SFs in the corridor in front of the doors. Daniel didn't hesitate and stepped out, only to be challenged right away.

"This level is restricted," the taller SF told him, noticing Vala hanging back.

"Yes yes, I'm sure it is. I'm a friend of Jack." The two men looked blankly at him. "I'm a friend of General O'Neill. I came to visit him," Daniel told them, expecting it to be okay and they would tell him which room the man was in. He knew Jack would want to see him so why wouldn't they let him?

"You are not authorized to be on this level. Please return to the elevator and go to one of the common areas or to your office," the SF commanded. The two SFs were standing their ground.

Vala stepped out next to Daniel, giving the two SFs special attention with her eyes as she put her hand on her hip. Her provocative look almost always worked. The shorter SF stepped over to hold the elevator door open when it started to close.

Vala sweetly quipped, "We won't stay long boys. We'll be back before you know it."

The SFs weren't buying it so Daniel tried again. "If you just go ask him, he'll say it's okay. We've been friends for years," he tried explaining, glancing up and down the corridor. "I'm Daniel," he started, but the taller man interrupted him.

"We know who you are, Dr. Jackson." He looked at Vala, "And you, Ms Mal Doran."

"You can't be here, sir, ma'am," the shorter SF stated, drawing their attention back to him. There were two SFs just down the corridor, keeping the stairwell secured.

Daniel admitted defeat and dragged Vala backwards into the elevator with him. He pressed the button for the commissary level for lack of another destination, but before the doors were completely closed he heard the tall SF quietly tell the shorter one that they'd never figure out that General O'Neill was in the infirmary. Vala heard it too and quickly pressed the button for sub level 21. The two exchanged looks that screamed 'WHAT?'

TBC

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or sent me email. And also to those of you who are still reading. Feedback in review or email is appreciated. If you tried to send me a private message in the last few days and couldn't, sorry. Somehow THAT function got disabled. :/ I've fixed it so go ahead... private message me. ;)


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks very much to everyone who has reviewed and/or sent me email. I don't know what to say except... thanks and I'm glad you're enjoying this story. :)

* * *

Previously in chapter 23 - Daniel accepted defeat and dragged Vala backwards into the elevator with him. He pressed the button for the commissary level for lack of another destination, but before the doors were completely closed he heard the tall SF quietly tell the shorter one that they'd never figure out that General O'Neill was in the infirmary. Vala heard it too and quickly pressed the button for level 21. The two exchanged looks that screamed 'WHAT?'

**Chapter 24**

The door opened to level 21 and once again two SFs were waiting. Thinking fast, Daniel told them, "Headache, need an aspirin," and before they could reply, he and Vala walked hurriedly past them, thinking the SFs might try to prevent their entry into the infirmary. In front of the doors to the main area stood two more SFs. Vala mumbled "overkill" as they were allowed to enter. Halfway across the room was a nurse sitting at a desk and she looked up as they approached.

"Dr Jackson, Ms Mal Doran, is something wrong?" They hadn't had a single patient other than General O'Neill since the day before except for post mission checks and with no teams off world they didn't expect any.

"Hi Connie, I have a headache," he fibbed, rubbing his left temple to feign pain.

"This is a walk-in clinic and we're walking in," Vala challenged. Seeing the incredulous look on Daniel's face she quickly changed her tune saying, "Yes, poor Daniel hasn't gotten any relief whatsoever. I think his bottle of aspirin must have expired to be so ineffective."

The nurse managed to keep the smirk off her face long enough to get Daniel to sit down in a chair at the side of her desk. His pulse rate, blood pressure and temperature were measured and all were found to be normal. She documented the numbers on a sheet with his name at the top while Vala looked around the room. She was observing three more SFs on duty in the main room, but didn't say anything. The nurse checked Daniel's pupil reaction with a penlight and he didn't seem to be sensitive to light at all.

Vala saw a medic enter the area leading to the private treatment rooms. She surmised that O'Neill being a General would probably be in one and there was another SF on duty just outside the door. A few moments later the man came out carrying what looked like towels and deposited them in the laundry bin. There was a patient in that room, Vala was sure of it. She just had to figure out how to get back there.

"How badly does your head hurt?" The nurse was talking to him now. He and Vala had exchanged looks and he just needed to keep the nurse occupied so Vala could go sneaking around.

"It's not too bad, more irritating than anything else," he played along.

"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you've ever felt."

Daniel had been asked that question more times than he could count. He knew to make it bad if she was going to take him seriously, but not horrific. "About a five."

The nurse scratched notes on the paper. "How's your vision?" Vala started moving slowly away from the desk.

"It seems a little blurry," he lied, scooting the chair to distract her. "Maybe I should have an eye test."

He stood and started moving toward the wall chart at the opposite end of the infirmary as Vala headed for the treatment room. The nurse followed him, but stopped when she realized Vala was not with them. She turned around just as an SF stepped in front of Vala.

"Hey there, don't mind me. I'm just going in there," Vala announced, sidestepping the airman and pointing her finger toward the closed door.

Daniel turned around and saw what was happening, but it was too late. The SF had Vala stopped and he saw Dr Lam walking toward her.

"Ms Mal Doran?" Dr Lam observed the dark haired woman still trying to scoot around. Vala stopped and faced the doctor, but it was Daniel who spoke up.

"I have a headache and I'm out of aspirin," he lied. "Vala came with me, and she's just bored."

She smirked. "Yes, I'm very bored. Do you have a treatment for that?"

Dr, Lam wasn't amused and indicated to the SF to go back to the treatment room door. The nurse had Daniel sitting back down now that it was pretty obvious that he wasn't having vision problems.

"Ms Mal Doran, perhaps you should go over by Dr Jackson and I'll get him some aspirin," Dr Lam proclaimed.

Vala reluctantly headed back as the nurse was once again asking Daniel questions. Neither Vala nor Daniel noticed an SF from the area of the room behind them move strategically closer.

"Did you hit your head?" Daniel shook his head indicating that he hadn't. "Do you have other symptoms? Nausea? Vomiting? Dizziness? Numbness in your hands or feet? Double Vision? Chills? Sore throat? Cough? Anything?"

"No, just the headache," he told her, trying to figure out how to ask about Jack.

"Perhaps he's hungry," Vala declared as she plopped into a chair and took out her cookie. The nurse gave her one of those looks and Vala actually put the cookie back in her pocket mumbling, "It's just a cookie. I promise to eat it really fast."

"Dr. Jackson, I need to know how bad your headache is so I can decide if we should run some tests."

Resignedly Daniel admitted it wasn't too bad and some aspirin would be fine. Vala sighed heavily, a message to Daniel that he could have been more creative.

The nurse was leaving just as Dr. Lam returned. "Connie, is there a problem?" She asked, knowing the two weren't really there for headache pills.

"No, Dr Lam," Connie knowingly smiled. She and the doctor knew that Daniel and Vala had found out something about General O'Neill and the two medical professionals were determined to make sure they didn't discover anything else.

Dr. Lam handed the nurse two small packets of Tylenol while holding a capped loaded syringe in her other hand. The nurse saw it and her eyes met the Doctor's. She knew it must be for the General.

The nurse quietly concluded. "So he'll be going."

"We're not sure yet, but the transfer paperwork is in the works... just in case," she stated cryptically raising her eyebrows.

The nurse looked relieved and Dr Lam added, "You know what to tell Dr Jackson."

"Yes," the nurse confidently replied and turned to go back to the desk. Transfer in the works meant she wouldn't have to lie. The General wasn't a patient of the infirmary anymore. It wasn't technically true, but true enough on paper that Connie wouldn't hesitate to pass on the misleading information. A simple play on words would work. O'Neill is not an infirmary patient instead of O'Neill is not a patient in the infirmary.

The nurse arrived back at the desk. "Here you go Doctor Jackson. If you don't feel better and especially if you develop any other symptoms you need to come back right away," she informed him, holding out the small foil pouches for him to take.

"Thanks," he mumbled, slipping the packets into his pocket, still in doubt about what to say.

Vala had no doubts and wasn't shy. "We heard General O'Neill is here. We'd like to see him."

Daniel practically fainted and Vala smirked.

"Dr. Jackson is the only infirmary patient here unless you need some Tylenol too."

Daniel lost it for a second and angrily spouted, "We know he's here!"

"Dr. Jackson, General O'Neill is not an infirmary patient." Connie repeated as another SF stepped closer.

Dr. Lam came out of the treatment area and headed for the desk. She had been checking on O'Neill when she heard the archaeologist's outburst.

"What can I do for you, Dr Jackson," Dr Lam asked politely, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"I know Jack… General O'Neill is here. I want to see him." His look was defiant, his stance rigid. He was prepared to stand firm and unyielding. Vala gave him one of her looks. She wanted to see the General too.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. General O'Neill is not an infirmary patient," she told him truthfully.

"I won't disturb him. I just want to see him," Daniel pressed the issue.

"Dr .Jackson, I can't give you something I don't have."

"Look at this place. Who are you protecting?" Vala was standing now too.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Dr. Lam saw Dr. Bishop looking around a corner, obviously wanting to see what was going on without getting involved.

"At least tell me if he's all right," Daniel whined and Doctor Lam was losing patience. She was not about to violate confidentiality or disregard orders, Presidential or otherwise.

"Patient information is confidential," she calmly told him.

"So he is here," Daniel arrogantly accused.

"You want to know if a patient is all right. I can't tell you if a patient is or isn't all right."

"I've known everything about him, including all things medical, for over nine years," he snidely told her.

"I sincerely doubt that, Doctor Jackson," she replied honestly, pursing her lips.

While O'Neill's friends were aware of his injuries and illnesses incurred while on duty at the SGC, very few knew other details, let alone complete details. The General was very private and even his friend Daniel Jackson didn't know half of the things going on with him, medically or otherwise. Jackson's brazen statement only confirmed to her why O'Neill would want to keep most of it private since she could imagine the linguist was like a hungry dog with a bone.

"General O'Neill is not an infirmary patient, Dr. Jackson. Perhaps you should speak with General Landry," she suggested, barely holding her temper, but standing her ground.

"Why are you lying?" Daniel shouted heatedly and took a step toward her. That was it. His angry advance was the proverbial straw and two SFs stepped forward ready to intervene. Dr. Bishop had come to help too, but stopped when he saw the SFs. He wasn't needed and Daniel and Vala might see him.

"All right, all right, we'll leave. Come on Vala," Daniel lamented, closely watched by the SFs as he and Vala unhappily left the walk-in clinic without looking back. When they had gone, Dr. Lam went to the phone to call her Dad. SFs at the door made sure Daniel and Vala boarded the elevator and one got on with them, just to make sure they went back to an authorized communal area.

"That went well," Vala whispered to a scowling Daniel.

TBC

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Thank you to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input, but all errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.


	25. Chapter 25

Previously in chapter 24 - "All right, all right, we'll leave. Come on Vala," Daniel lamented, closely watched by the SFs as he and Vala unhappily left the walk-in clinic without looking back. When they had gone, Dr. Lam went to the phone to call her Dad. SFs at the door made sure Daniel and Vala boarded the elevator and one got on with them, just to make sure they went back to an authorized communal area.

**Chapter 25**

Captain Guernsey reviewed his team's placement one last time and was satisfied. The President and his VIP guests would be served dinner in his quarters, while SGC personnel, not on official duty, would congregate in the mess hall, the gym and recreation areas, or in their offices and labs. Many places were restricted so he had anticipated where they would all be until the President departed. The ones who didn't go to those common areas would be easily found. Knowing the Major would be back from the restroom any second, Guernsey reached for the phone.

*~*~*~*~*

Dr. Lam returned to Jack's room. He was quiet, but didn't look relaxed or particularly comfortable. The area around and beneath his eyes was darkening fast, and he was starting to resemble a raccoon. The bruise on his forehead had turned from blue to almost black and a bruise around the bandage covering the laceration was also more pronounced. The hand she could see from her vantage was in a loose fist and for just a moment his eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. The nurse sitting in the corner saw the doctor and got up to go speak with her.

Stepping outside the treatment area, Dr. Lam looked at the chart with Jack's latest vitals. Her eyes scanned the readings taken every 15 minutes since his admission. Everything was as it should be, the higher than normal blood pressure probably caused by the headache.

"How's he doing?" Her question was for the nurse tasked with watching their patient.

The woman, who had just joined her, reported, "He's trying to rest." It was a vague answer, but there wasn't anything else to reveal.

"That's good," Dr. Lam admitted. "One of us will be back in 15 minutes to check him. If you need a break before then**, **just holler."

The nurse expected a doctor to periodically evaluate the General. "Yes, Dr. Lam," she replied, and then asked, "What about letting him lay on his side?"

The CMO thought for a moment before deciding. "Not yet."

*~*~*~*~*

The SecDef, SecAF, Mantley, Hammond and Landry had returned to their quarters to freshen up and were on their way to dinner with the President when they met up with Major Paul Davis. He normally wouldn't attend, but being the liaison between the Pentagon and Stargate Command he needed to know about the threat and the test, and had been invited. They entered the elevator without noticing a secret service agent seemingly talking into the air or to himself. He was actually communicating with an agent on the President's level using his nearly invisible 2-way micro headset.

The show-and-tell sessions had gone really well and the President had actually enjoyed listening to the SGC personnel. They were very knowledgeable and excited about their work, which was something he didn't always see in Washington. He'd just straightened his tie when a knock on the door interrupted him. He opened it to find an agent, who informed him that his dinner guests were on their way.

*~*~*~*~*

The doctors were looking at Jack's latest test results. It was not uncommon in a head injury, even a relatively mild one, for the brain to be bounced against the inside of the skull. In O'Neill's case, his head hit the landing and then smacked into the wall, causing two bruises on Jack's brain.

"This one is the worst," Dr. Bishop informed the other doctors. He pointed to the pictures of Jack's brain. "This contusion could be the cause of the blood in the spinal fluid."

Dr. Lam knew Jack didn't want to be moved, but it was in his best interest. At the very least he should have a neurological consultation.

"You want to tell him?" Dr. Bishop offered. Carolyn Lam nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

Captain Guernsey returned the phone to it's cradle and flipped through the pre-sets on the security monitors. The Major had gone to the restroom and would be back any time. He slowed the images manually a few times until he got to what he was looking for and then he stopped them completely. The common areas were busy as expected and he mentally performed a quick headcount. Switching over to corridor views, he saw what he needed and made a quick phone call.

As soon as the line connected and the other person spoke, he asked, "What's the word?" The reply was not unexpected, but he didn't have to be happy about it. "Take care of it," he demanded tersely. He heard footfalls outside the door just as he hung up the phone. The Major was back. Guernsey returned the monitoring station to its standard operation.

"What were you looking at?"

Captain Guernsey was startled and could have kicked himself. The Major had been too fast. He pushed back his chair and stood up, facing the senior officer. The other man's eyes looked from him to the monitors and back again.

"I changed the views to look at the corridors. The contrast needed tweaking... see... right here." Guernsey moved one of his hands to the control knob.

The Major's eyes followed Guernsey's hand – a fatal mistake.

*~*~*~*~*

Daniel sat, holed up in his office as a sort of self imposed isolation. He was still pouting about his and Vala's failure to find out anything about Jack. On the way back from the infirmary they had asked everyone they saw, but there wasn't anyone who knew more than they did. As things stood, he couldn't even be sure the man was anywhere in the mountain.

The two had sat and talked for a few minutes before he'd sent Vala off to bother someone else, while he took time to think, something not always possible with her around. She was constantly distracting him and he was not in the mood for her musings right now. Finally, with emotions messing with his head, Daniel picked up a research book and began to read.

That's how Samantha Carter found him - in his office, totally engrossed in the book, reading. It had taken her a few minutes, but she had finally persuaded him to go to dinner with her and the rest of SG-1. He'd planned on going anyway, since he and Vala hadn't told any of them yet about their visit to the infirmary. He'd been in a stubborn mood, making Sam think she had to convince him.

Carter noticed that he seemed even more agitated and she knew why. "Vala told us what happened."

Daniel stopped dead in his tracks. Of course that little minx had told them. Why should that surprise him? Gritting his teeth, he didn't respond, just shuffled along the corridor to the elevator.

"There isn't anything else you can do," Sam told him, though not too sympathetically.

Turning on her, he snapped, "ISN'T THERE?" Daniel's eyes blazed in the moment before he dropped his head, preferring to stare at the floor.

Sam had only been snapped at by Daniel a couple of times throughout the years, but she'd witnessed it many, many, many times. The normally passive archaeologist delighted in using that tactic with O'Neill and the other scientists, but especially with the General.

She stopped walking and moved to the side so that others could walk easily around them. Reigning in her hurt, she explained. "I don't know if he's in the infirmary or not. I don't know of any reason he would be."

She waited for him to reply and when he didn't she lowered her voice and continued. "He's here on official business, Daniel. I know it's hard and doesn't always make sense to you, but he'll get in touch with you when he can." Daniel still didn't speak, didn't even raise his head. She thought lightening the mood might help. "I know skipping dinner isn't going to change anything." There was still no response from him so she laid it out there. Something that had bugged the man for over nine years. "Sometimes things happen around here that we don't know anything about." He lifted up his head and glared at her. At that moment, she actually wondered why nobody had ever smacked him. Hard.

Daniel had seen the look on Sam's face, but in his indignation he had discounted it, preferring to believe that everything was Jack's fault. And everyone was taking HIS side. He hated things going on that he didn't know about. He was on SG-1. He'd been at the mountain longer than anyone else. How dare anyone not tell him everything. Still glaring at Sam, he finally looked into her eyes, instead of just at her face. She was hurt and angry and while he knew it wasn't his fault, he also knew arguing about it right then wouldn't solve anything, Daniel mumbled reluctantly, "Yeah, I know... sorry Sam.

They walked in silence, boarded and then got off the elevator, also in silence. Neither one spoke until they saw Teal'c walking toward them and then it was minimal pleasantries. The big Jaffa warrior read Sam's expression and knew Daniel was still irked and had started taking it out on everyone around him. The three friends walked into a very crowded commissary. Roast beef was very popular at the SGC. Luckily, Mitchell and Vala had anticipated and arrived early, snagging a table as soon as one became available. They'd waited as long as they could, but the savory aroma was too much to ignore for very long. To keep from losing their table, Vala had gotten into the serving line while Mitchell stayed seated. When she came back with food, he had gone to get his meal. Seeing Mitchell and Vala already seated and eating, the rest of SG-1 got into the long line.

*~*~*~*~*

Captain Guernsey watched on the monitors as the SecDef, SecAF, and Generals Mantley, Hammond and Landry arrived right on schedule and entered the President's quarters. He marked Major Davis off his list too, glad to know they wouldn't have to go looking for the SGC/Pentagon liaison. The senior officer had many years of experience in coordinating information and planning, and having spent considerable time at the mountain complex, knew it very well. It was good that the man would be locked in with the President and the others. Guernsey then counted the number of secret service left outside along with the SFs in the corridor and checked the levels above and below to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

TBC

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Too short for some of you, but the next one will be longer. Thank you to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills, but mostly for keeping me on track. This chapter is better because of their input, but all errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.


	26. Chapter 26

Previously in chapter 25 - Captain Guernsey watched on the monitors as the SecDef, SecAF, and Generals Mantley, Hammond and Landry arrived right on schedule and entered the President's quarters. He marked Major Davis off his list too, glad to know they wouldn't have to go looking for the SGC/Pentagon liaison. The senior officer had many years of experience in coordinating information and planning, and having spent considerable time at the mountain complex, knew it very well. It was good that the man would be locked in with the President and the others. Guernsey then counted the number of secret service left outside along with the SFs in the corridor and checked the levels above and below to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be.

**Chapter 26**

Before dinner President Hayes and his dinner guests had enjoyed nonalcoholic drinks and a few appetizers prepared by the SGC chef and kitchen staff. Tonic, sparkling water, club soda and bloody Mary mix had been provided for variety, as well as Dr Pepper, 7Up, ginger ale and V8 juice. They had lemon and lime juice, lemon and lime slices, green olives and celery sticks. They could add salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce or grenadine. The SecDef had mentioned a drink called a pinkrush*, but nobody wanted to try one without the white rum, and then they went on to have a discussion about which drinks were for men and which ones were for women. They tried to come up with unisex drinks, and both Hammond and Hayes wished Jack had been there for that because he surely wouldn't have been shy about voicing his opinions on the subject. It would have been priceless entertainment.

The hors d'oeuvres, utilizing crackers and thinly sliced toasted Ciabatta bread, were delicious, considering many had been prepared using sliced Spam and Spam spread. Only the military officers recognized the pink pork product, but they didn't care because they liked the stuff. The mess stored cases of the different Hormel varieties for everyday use and emergency rations, probably just like every other US military base on the planet. The different bite size Spam appetizers, one served cold and two served warm, were excellent and disappeared quickly. Other appetizers were deviled ham with cheese and pimento and chipped beef with cream cheese and red onion. These were easy for the mess staff since deviled ham and chipped beef were also stored in large quantities, though these days chipped beef on toast was only served for breakfast twice a week at the mountain base. It hadn't been that many years since the creamy, tasty SOS* meal had been available everyday, and not just for breakfast either.

The detour to talking about food and mocktails* had been good for all of them. It had been a stressful day, and they still needed to finish discussing the possible threat and the security test. All afternoon they had tried to keep their minds off Jack. It was hard though, especially for those who had witnessed his suffering. It wasn't long before they were all seated at the table, awaiting the meal prepared just for them. Once the food arrived and the servers had departed, the doors were closed, leaving the men to their private discussion.

The men ate their meal without conversation for a few minutes until Major Paul Davis broke the silence. "Is General O'Neill having dinner with his former team, General?" He was looking at Hammond, who was adding freshly ground pepper to his baked potato. The General's strong hands twisted the big pepper mill easily.

Passing the wooden grinder to Mantley, General Hammond somberly responded, "No, he's not." The next few minutes were spent telling the Major about what had happened that morning

Paul Davis was surprised. He'd known about personality clashes and practical jokes at the mountain complex. He knew about skirmishes when personnel were under alien influence, but never a blatant assault without a reason. And never an attack on a senior officer. They hadn't revealed much information about O'Neill's condition and he hoped it wasn't anything too serious. He was fond of the Major General, and had enjoyed working with him in DC. His pondering was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. The President called out for them to enter and the door opened to reveal a secret service agent who told them there was a phone call for General Landry. Hank excused himself and went out the door, the agent closing it behind them.

*~*~*~*~*

The decision to transfer General Jack O'Neill had been made. It was the best call under the circumstances and, according to the doctors, the only decision they could make to safeguard Jack. Hank Landry had listened to his daughter explain Jack's condition and how at the very least he needed to be examined by a neurologist. She even told him him that moving the General made much more sense than bringing in a specialist, because Jack might need to be seen by two specialists. Jack's head trauma sequelae could be treated by Dr. Lam or a neurologist, but if he needed surgery, a neurosurgeon would be required. If wasn't outside the realm of possibility for Jack to need an operation, so being where he could get all the care his condition required was their responsibility. That meant moving him to the Air Force Academy Hospital and it was going to happen very soon. When he finished with his daughter, Landry had called the duty officer just to make sure everything had been arranged. In the back of his mind and in his heart he knew there was nothing for him to do because his personnel would have already taken care of it. He just needed something to delay his return to dinner. The others, especially Hammond, Mantley and the President were very fond of Jack, and telling them that the man was not only not any better, but worse, was something he wasn't looking forward to doing. When he couldn't bring himself to stall any longer, Landry returned and found the President and the others discussing the differences between grilling, frying and broiling.

President Hayes was in the middle of a story about the new White House Chef when he glanced up and saw Landry in the doorway. The look on the General's face explained a lot, and while it didn't appear the call was about anything catastrophic, whatever it was wasn't good. His gut told him the phone call had been about Jack and the decision to move him to the Academy Hospital. He briefly wondered if stopping at the hospital before going to Peterson was feasible, but discounted it. There wouldn't be enough time and then there were the local authorities, Academy security and the secret service, making it a lot to coordinate in a very short amount of time. Plus the advance team would want to be at the Academy and in the hospital for more than a couple of hours. Going there tonight just wasn't practical.

"Hank?" All the men at the table looked at the SGC base commander.

General Landry heard the President say his name and mentally shook himself. Remembering that Jack was not dead and was hanging in there, he nodded at the greeting, noticed everyone looking at him and went to his chair. "That was Carolyn on the phone." He sat down, depositing his napkin onto his lap, and reached for his glass.

Hammond felt as tired as Landry looked. He stated, "Jack's going to the Academy." He knew his conclusion was correct.

Nodding, Landry said, "Yeah, right away." He was still angry it had happened at all, and embarrassed it had happened on his base. He'd considered releasing the civilian to her quarters, but now that his anger had returned full force, he decided to leave her overnight in the holding cell where she'd been since the morning. "The doctors did another scan. They didn't see a skull fracture, but they confirmed that his brain is bruised," he stated grimly. "She explained that traumatic brain injuries can result in contusions. That's the bruising." He swallowed a couple of sips of water before continuing. "The good news is they don't see any evidence of a hematoma." He saw blank looks on a couple of the men so he added, "That's a collection of blood where it doesn't belong." Carolyn had clarified it for him, so he certainly understood why someone else would need the same. Landry waited for the information to sink in. They all knew Jack didn't have a minor bump and that he could possibly have a severe injury with serious consequences. "His condition continues to deteriorate, so they don't believe there's any choice other than moving him." He sighed and saw the expressions on the others. They were concerned too.

The SecAF volunteered information from his own experience. "When my son was injured in a motorcycle accident, the doctors explained about blows to the head. Even head injuries not causing unconsciousness can result in contusions, skull fracture and hematomas." He seemed deep in thought for a moment, perhaps recalling those first hours, days and weeks following his son's accident. "I swear I learned more about head injuries than I ever wanted to know." The 25 year old had been hit by a car that was changing lanes on a frontage road. Thank goodness they'd both been only going about 35mph or it could have been so much worse.

"I don't even want to think about having to find another head of Homeworld," the SecAF admitted. Suddenly realizing what he'd said, he backpedaled. "Sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded."

Hayes responded immediately with, "We know you didn't." He saw the SecDef shrug and admitted, "I've tried not to think about that." Having Jack O'Neill in Hammond's old job in DC had been just what the program needed. Even with Jack's defiance of the IOA three weeks before, relations with them had never been better. It was as if the civilians needed someone to tick them off, forcing them to actually look at a different point of view. Hammond had dealt with the group for a short time while he was head of Homeworld, but he hadn't ever been in a position like O'Neill found himself. At least the civilians were talking to each other and surprisingly, talking to Jack too. Instead of dictating, they were asking for his opinions. Hayes believed it was a major breakthrough in cooperation between the different groups, and would benefit them all in the long run.

President Hayes noticed everyone's worried expressions. They were all as worried as he was about Jack. Attempting to cheer up everyone, he said, "Rick made a complete recovery and so will Jack." The young man had indeed fully recovered and now a year later showed no sign at all that he'd been in a coma for fourteen days. The President's statement was more wishful thinking than fact, but it did the trick as they all seemed a little more upbeat afterward. Landry remembered something else his daughter had told him. He explained about Dr. Jackson and Vala Mal Doran showing up in the infirmary looking for Jack, or at least information about him.

"Sounds like the gag order is working well," the SecAF exclaimed sarcastically before taking a bite of his dinner.

"It was only a matter of time," Hammond admitted, adding fresh ground pepper to his scalloped potatoes. "You're going to have to tell them, Hank."

Landry nodded, knowing it was inevitable in any case. "I suppose I should have SG-1 report to the briefing room."

"Finish your meal first. It can wait," Hayes reassured him, taking a bite of asparagus. The meal was delicious, and there was no reason for any of it to go to waste. He watched Landry hesitate, perhaps mulling over whether he should stay and eat, or leave. Then the General stabbed at his food, finally taking a bite, and then another. The President was reassured that Landry was staying, postponing the meeting with SG-1 until a little later. For a moment he wondered what Landry would say to the team without violating Jack's privacy. At least three members of SG-1 weren't going to be happy about being kept in the dark. A fork clinked on a plate, bringing Hayes back to his dinner guests. They were all still eating and showed no indications they even noticed he had zoned out for a minute.

His mind returned to the head of Homeworld Security and he solemnly admitted, "I have to go back to Washington tomorrow evening, and I wanted Jack with me." He'd canceled Jack's leave and insisted the man return to Washington with him. He wasn't a coward, but he had left it to Hammond to break the news. Oh sure, they'd reached a compromise. He would take Air Force One to California and stop for Jack on the way back. Hammond had told him that Jack was disappointed, but accepted the new arrangement with the understanding that he'd get his leave in a few weeks, and that his transportation out of and into Washington wouldn't be on a commercial airline.

"Maybe that can still happen, sir. We'll ask the doctors," Mantley offered, trying to sound optimistic, though he and the others knew it was unlikely that Jack would be up to flying. Would the specialists at the Academy Hospital release him? Maybe, after Jack was evaluated. Perhaps it was just time that the Major General needed for his brain to recover, and it wasn't like they didn't have doctors on Air Force One and in the nation's capital.

They continued eating dinner, knowing there was nothing to do but worry. The meal was wonderful, Jack would have approved, and the men finished almost everything. They discussed the security threat and decided to wait on the test until the key cards could be located. Someone would need to ask Jack where he had stashed them. Knowing how the man's mind worked, they could be anywhere.

*~*~*~*~*

Returning to the monitors, Guernsey checked the elevators and corridors again. His personnel had moved wheeled carts and pallets into position and were in place, waiting. He made a quick call and then sat back to watch. Like a choreographed musical, in less than a minute all the SGC personnel on those levels had been dealt with and the wheeled carts and pallets were in place. Using the keyboard, he locked out the elevator service to those levels. He heard conversation from the corridor and turned to see two of his men. The Major's body, still on the floor, was dragged into the doorway and into the hallway. Guernsey knew they'd find a place for the body where it wouldn't be found right away. He hadn't wanted to kill the man. It was the major's fault for coming back too soon. Perhaps he could have just incapacitated him, but he'd had to use lethal force to keep the officer from being able to fight back. Giving him that chance would have jeopardized the whole mission. He shook off the small amount of regret he was feeling and looked at the monitors to confirm that everything was going well. His men were fast and efficient and as soon as most of his personnel received radios and were armed, it would be time to round up the rest of the SGC personnel.

*~*~*~*~*

"Okay, we need orders completed and signed for his transfer," Dr. Bishop told the nurse who was writing up everything. He wrote while he talked, and she wrote while he talked. The nurse was completely professional, used to fast talking doctors.

When he finished, she repeated back to him, "TBI at 1030 hours today." She continued before ending with, " LP confirmed elevated ICP."

"Let's have someone notify the Hospital Commander and the Academy Superintendent. It's not everyday they get a Major General brought in by helicopter." The nurse nodded in understanding and having finished the written orders, she left to inform the Academy Hospital about their soon-to-be arriving patient.

*~*~*~*~*

On sub levels 16, 19 and 20, Captain Guernsey could see his people beginning to load the armaments they had removed from the weapons stores. He started unlocking some doors and securing others. The elevator presets kicked in, making it available only on select floors at certain times. These included the sub levels with armory, stores, MALP room, mechanical and electrical maintenance, infirmary and food service. The security monitors revealed more of his men moving into position. He heard a lot of noise coming from the corridor on his own level and stepped out to see several wheeled carts being moved to the elevator.

"Not yet," he told them. "That doesn't leave this level until all the SGC personnel, military and civilian, are locked up."

The men looked disappointed, obviously wanting to get things moving, but they obeyed their leader and rolled the carts to the side of the hallway. Guernsey gave them a look of approval before telling them where to report.

*~*~*~*

SG-1's empty dishes were stacked on the table. Not one morsel was left. The meal had been consumed with very little conversation and even Daniel cleaned his plate. They hadn't talked about what might be going on with O'Neill because whatever it was, it didn't need to be discussed in public.

"I don't think I have room for dessert," Mitchell informed the others as he leaned back and gently patted his stomach. He didn't count the pie he'd had earlier as dessert. It was, after all, eaten before the meal, so he considered it an appetizer.

Vala didn't want anything either, but wasn't against getting something for later. "I think I'll see if they have anymore of those lovely cookies." Daniel wanted to talk to her without the others, so he followed her away from the table.

When Vala saw Daniel she waited for him to catch up and then whispered, "Are you angry that I told them?"

He shook his head, "No, not really."

"Shall we explore, and search for General O'Neill?" Her question brought a small smile to Daniel's face.

Vala reached for his hand, like she was intending to pull him toward the doorway and the corridor. "This way Daniel. Let's go storm the medical unit."

"No Vala, we should get some cookies, go with the others back to my office, make some coffee and talk about all of this. Something is going on."

Vala laughed in agreement. "We will of course, lock ourselves in and stay secluded."

Reaching for cookies, Daniel laughed and told Vala, "You get some too. There are five of us."

Back at the table Mitchell told the others, "Those two are up to something and it's not cookies."

*~*~*~*~*

"General O'Neill," Dr. Lam called to him softly.

He opened his eyes and he looked right through her. It was immediately obvious that his eyes weren't focusing and she suspected it wasn't just because of the drugs. She gently took his hand, absently checking for infiltration of the IV in his wrist.

"Sir, we're going to move you to the Academy Hospital."

Jack knew it could happen, in fact he had expected it. Blood in the spinal fluid wasn't good. He knew they were worried about brain swelling, stroke, seizures and other complications. The lab reported a very small amount of blood which was the good news. Sub arachnoid hemorrhages can be fatal or cause permanent brain damage. The bruises on his brain were not good, but at least no blood was seen on the CT. It meant the bleeding was very slow or happened at the time of injury and was now stopped. Surely even relatively minor concussions could cause a bruise on the brain.

It was also possible he had a skull fracture though they probably would have seen it on the second CT. Jack didn't want to go to the hospital, but he knew Dr Lam wouldn't be sending him unless she believed it was the best place for him. She was waiting for a response, but Jack was suddenly not feeling well at all. He was having trouble concentrating and vaguely heard a knock on the door when Dr. Bishop joined them.

Jack's eyes wouldn't focus, but he thought it was from the drugs as much as from anything else. He'd had head injuries before, even a fractured skull, but didn't remember feeling quite like he did right then. Knowing he wasn't acting or reacting properly, but helpless to do anything else at the moment, he heard the snap of examination gloves and felt his heavy eyelids being pushed up. Something inside him screamed at the thought of the hated penlight in his eyes, but he never actually made a sound. He wanted to, but he couldn't and then came the bright light. He opened his mouth to speak, but groaned instead. The nausea was fierce and as he vomited, he felt a gloved finger in his mouth, sweeping away the emesis to keep him from choking. He felt hands on his body as they turned him onto his side and he immediately vomited again. It was saliva and bile and he was a mess as his world spiraled and his head exploded in pain. He felt his infirmary clothes being moved and removed and someone wiped his face with a warm, wet soft cloth.

Dr. Lam urgently ordered medications: a steroid, Reglan, and a loading dose of Phenobarbital. Dr. Bishop ordered the administration of a diuretic and an increase in the Mannitol drip rate. Jack heard loud rushing in his ears and the infirmary lights dimmed, first to gray and then to black. The next few minutes were a blur as his mouth and throat were suctioned and drugs administered to stabilize him. Allowing himself to relax in his drugged haze, he let them do whatever they wanted to do without protest. He felt that bad.

TBC

*pink rush - searched the internet for a cocktail, found 1000s and just picked this one. I was going to make up something but I'm not that imaginative

*SOS - "stew on a shingle" or as we used to call it "s**t on a shingle" (creamed chipped beef is usually served open face on toast, or sometimes on biscuits or bagels or English muffins)Information about chipped beef (aka creamed beef, creamed chipped beef, SOS) can be found on the internet. There are many diners around the USA that have SOS on their menus.

*Mocktail - mock cocktail - usually refers to a mixed drink made without alcohol

* * *

Thank you to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. They have both had lots of RL, yet still managed to help me get this chapter ready. Thanks just isn't enough. :) This chapter is better because of their input, but all errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.


	27. Chapter 27

Previously in chapter 26 - Jack heard loud rushing in his ears and the infirmary lights dimmed, first to gray and then to black. The next few minutes were a blur as his mouth and throat were suctioned and drugs administered to stabilize him. Allowing himself to relax in his drugged haze, he let them do whatever they wanted to do without protest. He felt that bad.

**Chapter 27**

Jack didn't remember everything; mostly the headache, the gagging, and the flood of medication into his veins that made him dizzy, drowsy and slightly euphoric, all at the same time. He wanted to sleep, pass out or die; anything to stop the pain in his head. He thought someone said something about a neurologist and he sort of remembered hearing Dr. Lam telling him he was going on a helicopter. Aware of frenetic activity around him, Jack didn't flinch when someone lifted his eyelids. Even the bright beam of the penlight didn't bother him. He was wondering why when he felt the hard plastic speculum of the otoscope inserted into his right ear. Then it happened to his left ear before he felt gloved hands on his jaw. Someone was tipping his head back and he knew they were looking in his nose like the doctor did with Daniel when his allergies were bad and his sinuses were irritated or infected.

He recognized Dr. Lam's voice when she asked him to say 'ah' as someone, maybe her, maybe someone else, eased his mouth open. He could taste the vinyl glove on the covered fingers and wondered if they were the standard medical kind or the bright purple nitrile ones. He was pretty sure they'd all been wearing the purple ones when they performed the LP on him earlier. Dr. Lam asked him again to say 'ah' but he couldn't do it. He gagged on the wooden tongue depressor and again when a cool spray hit the back of his throat. He almost opened his eyes in shock, but couldn't bring himself to react. That quickly changed**,** though**,** when the nasal cannula was removed from his nose and something cold and gooey was put into his right nostril.

"Sorry, Sir, I should have told you I was going to do that." His eyes remained cracked, just barely open, and he recognized one of Lam's nurses. "The Xylocaine jelly in your nose and spray in your throat will make this easier." Jack believed her and closed his eyes without questioning what she meant. He heard an electronic hum and knew the head of the treatment bed was being raised. In a few seconds the upper half of his body was elevated and he had an extra pillow under his head. He took a deep breath and sighed, nestling his sore head into the softness. Jack was resigned to going to the Academy hospital and**,** for just a moment**,** wondered what else they would do to him before moving him. His pounding head was actually pounding less and Jack had to admit that he wasn't feeling so bad anymore.

Dr. Lam spoke softly to keep from startling him. "General O'Neill, we need to put a tube down your throat to your stomach. It gets there by going into your nose first. Please hold still." He didn't get a chance to reply before one hand was placed onto his forehead and another on his shoulder. Then his mouth was held open and he felt someone thread the gastric tube into his right nostril. He felt it moving very slowly and was glad it didn't hurt. In fact he couldn't feel it much at all and decided that the jelly must have anesthetic properties.

Jack's attention came back to the tube they were stuffing up his nose when he suddenly felt the rubbery thing in the back of his throat. It hadn't taken very long for them to get it there and Dr. Lam asked him to swallow. Jack didn't swallow, and in all fairness they hadn't given him a lot of time to comply, but it didn't matter. Someone opened his mouth a little wider and he felt vinyl first before something metallic was on his tongue and lower lip. In another second both were gone and with his mouth clear of fingers, and other things, he was surprised by a couple of small ice chips hitting his tongue and Jack closed his lips to suck on them. Again Dr. Lam asked him to swallow, but he couldn't. He was sure those little slivers of frosty goodness hadn't reduced to enough liquid to get a good swallow and he just didn't have the energy to try.

A hand cupped his cheek, he felt something in the corner of his mouth and heard the slurp as the small amount of liquid was sucked out from his mouth, and then the tube in his nose and throat began slowly moving again. He kept as still as he could and just let them do their work and soon Dr. Lam said it was in and he'd done fine. Jack wanted to laugh about the 'done fine' part since he hadn't cooperated much at all. In the end it hadn't mattered though because they were very good and got it in without his help. He heard someone say, "Stomach contents," and surmised the tube in his nose had indeed made it to his stomach and something they had just done confirmed it. The hands on his forehead and shoulder disappeared and he found himself relaxing as he was suddenly very sleepy.

Dr. Bishop announced, "Introduce the saline," and immediately the inside of his nose was chilly and he knew they were squirting water into the tube. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable and he concentrated on the new sounds as everything was pumped out of his stomach.

He felt tape being applied to his nose and knew they were securing the tube. Dr. Lam ordered, "More oxygen," and the nasal cannula was gone, replaced by an oxygen mask a second later as the elastic strap tightened around the back of his head. He was aware of the hospital gown being pulled away and he felt the cold metal of a stethoscope against the flushed skin on his chest as someone listened to his heart and lungs. A cuff was put on his arm as someone checked his blood pressure. He cracked his eyes, but closed them right away because of the bright lights.

He felt the dull rap of the little hammer on his knees and elbows as they checked his reflexes, and assessed his nervous system, looking for abnormalities. A cool hand was placed in each of his and he was told to squeeze, but he wasn't sure if he had or not. He recognized the voices of both Dr. Lam and Dr. Bishop as they asked their questions. He didn't answer a single one. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer. He wasn't sure he could answer so he didn't try. They replaced his gown with a fresh one and then disconnected the tubing from the urinary catheter so they could pull down his scrub pants. He heard Dr. Bishop say secure the Foley and he knew they were going to tape the darn thing to his thigh. Hoping they avoided the hairiest part of his leg, he was relieved when they put the tape on his outer thigh, knowing it had much less hair than the front of his leg.

Jack could feel the drugs pulling him under, but he smiled slightly when he heard Dr. Bishop say, "Don't take them off. Let's let him keep the pants. They might give him scrub pants at the Academy if he shows up wearing them." The nurse saw Jack's reaction and smiled too. Soon he was redressed, gently moved from the treatment bed, covered and secured on a collapsible gurney. He wasn't completely flat, which was good. Instead his head and shoulders were raised a little and someone had placed padding of some kind under his hands and forearms. An extra lightweight blanket was placed across his legs and pulled up to his lower chest. He wasn't feeling half bad and was actually pretty comfortable. Even the oxygen mask wasn't bothering him. Going to the hospital was still not something he wanted to do, but he was resigned. Hoping the specialist would find nothing that needed to be fixed, Jack took a long breath and let his body relax into the pad on the gurney. It would be so easy to drift into sleep.

The doctors had been watching Jack and were relieved to see that he appeared comfortable. It was a positive indication for a full recovery, but they knew he still needed to be transferred. "General O'Neill, it's time to move you. You'll be well cared for and I'll come over to the Academy Hospital as soon as I can." Dr. Lam wasn't sure if he'd heard her, but she knew he was awake. Barely awake. The medications he'd been given weren't meant to sedate him. The extreme relaxation was simply a convenient side effect. She left Dr. Bishop with Jack while she walked to the main infirmary to call Major Walker and also to get the SFs who would help the medics move the gurney to the elevator and then up and out of the mountain. The other SGC doctor and a nurse were waiting for her. They and their supplies were ready for the trip.

*~*~*~*~*

It was a quiet and so far uneventful evening, unlike the day had been. The duty officer, Major Walker, was waiting for status reports from security force team leaders when the phone rang. It was Dr. Lam and he informed her that the helicopter was ready and waiting in the parking area right outside the main entrance. He told her there were additional SFs waiting for her team on sub level 11 and also the main level, Colorado Springs air traffic control had been notified and the hospital was expecting them.

He hung up the phone and jotted down the information in the desk log book just as someone knocked on the door of his small office. He was expecting phone and radio calls so it caught him by surprise, but it wasn't totally unexpected. With General O'Neill being transferred, he had half expected the security commander to show up. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Major Zinkow waiting. It took only a fraction of a second for unexpected surprise to change to shock when the blue electrical wave hit Walker in the chest at the same time he saw the zat'nik'tel in Zinkow's hand.

Zinkow was quickly on the phone to Guernsey who used the computer to change the duty officer's name in the official record before accessing the next set of random code words. In another minute they were read to the new duty officer so he would have all the right answers when required. The next time they communicated would be by radio. Soon all of the operatives would have them, complete with earpieces for privacy and stealth. Major Zinkow examined the log book and immediately dialed a number into the phone. Securing Major Walker could wait another minute.

*~*~*~*~*

On sub level 16, Captain Guernsey hung up the phone and watched on the monitors as his companions went about their assigned tasks. There were plenty of displays, but still not nearly enough for him to view the entire complex at one time. He watched as another group of SGC personnel were taken to holding, detention and isolation cells. Watching as one of the SG personnel lunged at his captor, he chuckled, thinking how futile it was for the man to resist.

Guernsey wondered if all the personnel should remain restrained. Most of the people were already confined without having their hands bound so he decided to let his men handle it. Restrain those they needed to, and keep restrained those they wanted, seemed like a good policy. He observed the struggling officer being shoved into the cell and the door closed before he could get back to it.

The outraged man yelled and pounded his fists, but Zinkow's men did not respond or provoke him further. They just headed for the elevator. None of the operatives had been injured so the Captain was satisfied. He watched as the gate room marines and control room technicians were locked in a room on sub level 28 before their captors headed back to the level 28 armory. Only a few more groups to go, except the one on the President's level, and all the military would be in cells. Then they would finish rounding up the civilians. He watched on the monitors as some of his men headed for the final two communal areas.

He answered the phone when it rang. "Security, Guernsey." It was Major Zinkow calling back to inform him that the infirmary team was ready to take General O'Neill out of the mountain. Guernsey knew it meant that security on sub level 11 and at the main floor of the complex had been alerted along with the Academy. They would need to do something about that... without alerting any of the NORAD folks prematurely.

*~*~*~*~*

The infirmary staff watched as two medics and several SFs pushed the gurney with an oxygen tank underneath out of the infirmary. There wasn't anything else they could do for General O'Neill. The gastric tube was clamped, the IV bags were resting by his side and the urine collection bag was under the blanket between his feet. A nurse carried a large medical bag over her right shoulder, while the SGC doctor followed along behind clutching a drug box in one hand and a folder with O'Neill's chart in the other. It would take almost as long to get him out of the mountain and aboard the helicopter as it would take to fly him to the Academy Hospital.

"He's had a rough day," the President's doctor softly proclaimed, watching the group leaving the infirmary.

"Yes, he has," Dr Lam thoughtfully agreed. Her gaze followed the gurney until it was out of sight.

They stood silent for a moment until Dr. Bishop spoke up. "We skipped lunch. Would you like to join me for dinner?" They both needed to eat and she was good company. "I hear it's roast beef," he informed her with a smile. He wasn't heartless, but the General was in good hands and would be at the Academy Hospital in just a few minutes. It was about 35 minutes away by ambulance* and much faster by helicopter.

Dr. Lam returned the smile. She was hungry and the mess roast beef was actually pretty decent. She was thinking about mashed potatoes when her stomach growled so she told him, "Sure, just let me wash up." She headed for the restroom, but suddenly turned back when she heard lots of running booted feet. Everyone was immediately on alert and watched as several SFs swarmed through the same door that the medical team had just gone through.

"Who's injured?" Dr Lam had no idea what other reason they would have for being in her infirmary. She got her answer a second later when her crestfallen staff came in from the corridor pushing the gurney carrying General O'Neill. Something had happened before they got out of the mountain and she started toward them, hoping to be able to help. The patient must have crashed and needed to be stabilized before they attempted to transport him. Dr. Bishop arrived at the gurney ahead of her and she stopped moving when he suddenly turned around. The look on his face spoke volumes.

She wanted to believe there was something that could be done. It hadn't been that long. Why wasn't someone bagging the General? Why weren't they doing chest compressions? Everyone in the room, even the SFs and Marines were trained and certified in CPR and basic first aid, and all of them attended regularly scheduled refresher classes. They were steps away from a defibrillator and all the drugs necessary to stabilize a patient suffering from cardiac arrhythmia, ventricular fibrillation and pulseless ventricular tachycardia. Why were they all just standing there... doing... nothing?

She looked at Nathan Bishop's face, into his eyes and saw something else. Whatever was going on wasn't just about General O'Neill. Bishop took a step to one side and she saw the zat gun. An SF, who had gone with the medical team to the helicopter, was standing behind the doctor, and standing behind him was another SF holding an alien weapon. For just a second she didn't comprehend what was happening. It sunk in right before she heard the order to move and then they were all being herded into a group, surrounded by the armed men.

"Blount, you got another zat," asked a man who seemed to be in charge.

"Yep, right here," he replied and handed over another of the Goa'uld weapons.

"All right, listen up. None of you will be hurt if you cooperate. Take off your shoes, your medical coats and your belts. Take everything out of your pockets."

The medical personnel looked to be in shock while the SFs and Marines were just angry. Because the President was in the mountain, they weren't allowed to carry weapons. Everything had been locked up either in the armories or in strategic places on various sub levels, with access only in emergency and only with two senior officers opening the lockups.

"What is going on? Who are you and why are you doing this?" The President's doctor had no idea what was happening. This was a military base and these men looked military. He wanted an explanation for what they were doing, why they were doing it and what were those weird weapons? The only answer he got was an electrical shock when one of the men shot him with a zat. A medic went to help him and was zatted twice when the men overreacted and discharged their weapons at the same time. The doctor would recover, the medic would not.

There were shocked gasps from some of the personnel, but nobody panicked. Instead most of them got out of their shoes and belts and emptied their pockets much faster than before the men collapsed to the floor.

"Anybody else?" The apparent leader sounded angry. "Do what you're told and you won't be hurt," he snarled. He couldn't believe how much fun he was having and how easy it was. Their planning from months earlier was paying dividends as everything progressed smoothly. He watched as the personnel did as instructed, thinking that even the rat-bastard-senator's contribution couldn't have made things go any better.

When the infirmary personnel were finished, the men ordered them to carry the doctor and get to the elevator. The security personnel had no trouble carrying him and were away quickly with most of the others following behind. The slower ones walked solemnly past O'Neill laying on the gurney. He hadn't moved or made a sound so there was no reason to believe he wasn't dead. His color hadn't been good when he was moved and if anything it was worse now. Typical for someone who had died. Dr Lam's mind was spinning, concerned for herself and her personnel, but also for the others in the mountain complex. She wondered what was happening with her Father and the President when she saw that O'Neill was still breathing. He wasn't dead. She couldn't stay quiet, threat of being zatted or not.

"What about General O'Neill?" She tensed up fearing an electrical shock herself, but it never came. Something else just as shocking came instead.

"He's staying here. He's all drugged up and they think he's dead anyway."

"But he's not dead," she protested. She knew O'Neill needed medical care and she was loathe to leave him alone. She never got the chance to protest.

A new voice taunted. "They think he's dead because that's what I told them when I canceled the helicopter." The few personnel remaining turned to see a smiling officer standing in the doorway holding a zat. He also had a weapon in a holster at his hip. Major Michael Zinkow had been at Stargate Command for more than four years, promoted to 3IC of SGC Operations about six months before. He was a senior officer in the base command structure and had served with valor and honor. Looking directly at Dr. Lam, his eyes blazed a warning for her to be quiet and cooperate. The others missed it, but she got the message.

He waited only a few seconds for the shock of the situation to wear off a bit before he ordered, "Get them locked up."

The group was realizing how dire their situation was when they started for the doorway to the corridor and heard Zinkow bellow, "Put the General in one of the treatment rooms out of the way, along with him." He callously indicated the dead medic and the others winced when they saw the man dragged away by his feet.

Dr. Lam couldn't see any options and left the infirmary. She could only hope that General O'Neill's condition wouldn't worsen and that Bishop was going to be okay. She bit her lip thinking about the medic, but there wasn't anything to be done. Two shocks from a zat'nik'tel, spaced closely together and the human body just doesn't recover. She had read all the reports and knew about the times when someone didn't die, but those had been special circumstances. She boarded the elevator along with everyone else, wondering what was going on and where they were being taken. She stopped short of shuddering when she thought about Major Zinkow's cold eyes.

TBC

* Tried to calculate the mileage and time for travel between the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and the Air Force Academy Hospital. Looks like ~24 miles and on city streets, even with the higher speed limit on I-25, it might take at least 28-35 minutes, more if there is lots of traffic. Add time to get through Academy security, etc. and it would probably be even more.

* * *

I thought about ending this chapter with the line 'Why were they all just standing there... doing... nothing?' but I couldn't do it to you. :) For everyone celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope it's a safe and sane one, with lots of love and tasty food. I love Thanksgiving, especially dressing and cranberries. Grateful thanks to bats212 and zeilfanaat for their contributions. This chapter is better because of them. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry it took so long to post this. I explain a little at the end of the chapter. **Wonderful holidays and a happy new year to everyone.**

**Chapter 28**

Guernsey watched the monitors as his men escorted the personnel from the infirmary corridor into the elevator. A moment later he saw Major Zinkow looking right into the camera, giving the watcher a smug smile, followed by a sloppy salute. Guernsey laughed out loud before switching the monitor to another sub level. Checking the corridors outside the elevator doors on levels 22 to 26, he was satisfied to see the corridors were clear. Knowing that three of his men should be emptying the armory on sub level 28, he flipped to 27 and then to 28. Realizing he'd seen something he shouldn't have seen, Guernsey went back to 27. Everything looked as it should on the first two camera views. Then he switched to a view outside the staff offices, just down the hall from Landry's office.

"Damn," he bellowed, reaching for the radio. "Chambers, get two guys to 27. There's a man who missed the roundup. Zinkow, get back to the duty office." He watched as the sergeant walked around cautiously, looking in offices and around cubicle partitions.

Chamber's response came through first. "Copy that." Guernsey knew the man wouldn't waste any time getting someone there. Zinkow's reply crackled through next. "On my way, Milkman. ETA 30 seconds." Guernsey heard the slight breathlessness in Zinkow's voice and knew he was running. They were both thinking the same thing. On 27, the sergeant was at the top of the staircase and Guernsey knew he was quickly realizing that something was wrong. He could only hope his men got there before the sergeant did something they would all regret. The enlisted man then returned to a cubicle, and was dialing the phone from the desk closest to him when Guernsey's radio came to life.

It was Chambers, his voice low. "Captain Guernsey, we're outside the fire door on 27. You have target location?"

Guernsey glanced at the monitor and saw the sergeant replace the handset. Hoping that call had been to the duty officer, Guernsey reacted quickly when he saw him reaching for the phone again to make another call. "Chambers, Go." On another monitor Guernsey saw the door open, and then the two men rushed into the corridor. "He's in the first cubicle two doors down on your right. Drop him."

*~*~*~*~*

The commissary crowd had thinned considerably as personnel ate quickly and returned to duty, or to other authorized SGC areas. There were very few tables still occupied, and SG-1 would be leaving soon too. When Vala and Daniel returned from getting the cookies, it hadn't taken much for them to convince Teal'c, Sam and Mitchell to accompany them back to Daniel's office to discuss things. Even Mitchell finally admitted that what happened to Vala and Daniel in the infirmary was a bit 'odd'**,**and talking about it certainly couldn't hurt anything. The five friends talked quietly for a couple of minutes and agreed that several questions needed answers. Could both Daniel and Vala have misunderstood the SF's whispered remarks? Why would the SFs have mentioned O'Neill being in the infirmary if he wasn't in the infirmary? If O'Neill was in the infirmary, why was he there? If he was there, why was it a secret? Was the medical staff told to lie? Who would have told them to lie? There were many questions and so far, no answers.

Mitchell knew Vala and Daniel each had a handful of cookies, but if any of them wanted something besides coffee or water, now was the time to get it. "Anything else before we go?"

Teal'c was the only one who had grabbed a bottle of juice as they walked by the self serve section**,**and it didn't look like anyone else was going to do the same thing. "I believe we are ready to proceed, Colonel Mitchell." Teal'c smirked as only the Jaffa could**,** and Mitchell grinned.

The team members headed down the corridor. The quintet looked like a matched set in their dark blue BDUs with Vala, Daniel and Sam in front, Mitchell and Teal'c right behind them. Up ahead, the elevator doors opened, and six SFs, exited and turned in the corridor before walking toward SG-1. Nobody thought anything of it. After all, it was dinner time**,**and roast beef and mashed potatoes always brought a big crowd. The security team going to dinner had obviously elected to enjoy their meal together, and SG-1 kept moving in the opposite direction.

Vala linked her arm with Daniel's and he, feeling a little better about everything, jokingly jutted his other elbow toward Sam, indicating she should do the same. She smiled slightly, relieved that his mood had apparently improved. O'Neill used to say that comfort food could help with almost any problem, and in this case, roast beef and mashed had done the trick. That or the prospect of talking privately as a team, but Sam chose to believe it was the tasty meal. Just as she started to say something to the archaeologist, everyone heard the tell-tale whine, and turning toward the sound, Teal'c and Mitchell were immediately bathed in blue electricity. They were on the floor, along with Teal'c's bottle of juice almost before SG-1 realized anything had happened, let alone have time to react, leaving the others to stare in shock. In another couple of seconds, shock had turned to anger as the three standing team members eyed the man holding the recently fired zat, understanding that he probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot them too. The other five SFs all carried zats too and it was more than clear to Sam, Vala and Daniel they had better cooperate for now, lest they end up unconscious on the floor too.

With their backs to the SF group, SG-1 hadn't seen the men reach to remove weapons from the waistband at the small of their backs. The base was on lock down, with SFs and secret service all over the place, and they had no reason to anticipate anything like that happening.

Colonel Samantha Carter ordered, "Stand down. What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't give us any trouble, Colonel," the security team leader ordered. Three SFs walked quickly down the corridor and into the commissary. The others kept their weapons trained on SG-1.

Daniel was confused. "What's going on?"

Vala and Sam were actually amazed that Daniel had stayed quiet as long as he had. Ever the negotiator, the man truly believed he could talk his way out of anything. This time though he wasn't getting a chance.

"Quiet!" The SF glared at Daniel**,** and Daniel glared back.

He smirked. "What if I'm not... quiet?" His challenge was met with a zat against his chest while Sam muttered his name under her breath. It was not a good time to channel General O'Neill.

Sam tried to remember how many people were in the commissary**,**and wondered if they had heard what was going on in the corridor. The kitchen staff and at least three SG team members were capable of mounting an effective defense, but at least four civilians were probably not. If taken by surprise like SG-1 had been, none of them would get a chance. Concerned about someone being seriously injured, and electing to wait and see, Sam uttered Daniel's name again. The timbre in her voice was intended to compel him to back down, at least for now.

Daniel clenched his jaw as his eyes narrowed, still glaring at the armed SF. "Yeah, okay," he finally conceded, shutting his mouth and raising his hands in surrender. Sam and Vala raised their hands also.

"Take off your shoes and belts, and empty your pockets."

One of the SFs saw the double chocolate chip cookies in Daniel and Vala's hands and took possession of them before anyone could complain. It was obvious that SG-1 wasn't happy and the SFs didn't care. To prompt the teammates into compliance, one of the SFs pointed his zat at Teal'c and Mitchell, threatening a second shot. Sam, Vala and Daniel wanted to resist, but didn't, as the requested items hit the floor. One of the men shoved everything over to the side, out of the way, before noticing that everyone seemed to be staring at Vala's feet. Her socks didn't match.

Vala saw everyone looking so she dipped her head and looked too. The socks were clean and hadn't starting smelling yet. What was the problem with them? Thinking they should be glad she wasn't barefooted, she wiggled her toes and quipped, "You're just jealous that you're not wearing footwear like mine." On her left foot was a fuzzy bright pink sock and on her right, a fire engine red and white striped sock.

Nobody felt like arguing, even though they all knew they'd never wear socks like the ones she was sporting. Sam might wear something similar, but hers would match, and she wouldn't wear them on the job. Daniel half smiled, admiring Vala's independent nature, and then looked at her face. Her expression screamed one word - 'What?' Nobody said anything else as an SF approached. And in the shadow of the zats, Vala's socks were forgotten as nylon flex cuffs were put on the wrists of all three of them.

Their hands were restrained behind their backs, indicating the men truly considered them to be a threat, which came as no surprise to Sam, Vala and Daniel. Separately, each one could inflict some serious hurt on the men, while collectively, they could have easily taken out three or four of them before being downed themselves. That could have happened with their hands restrained in front. Imagine if the men had been arrogantly cocky and not restrained them at all? Daniel, Vala and Sam could only dream about that because now they were restrained, having not resisted at all.

One SF kept a weapon trained on SG-1, while two others put flex cuffs on the still unconscious Mitchell and Teal'c. Just to be sure, two sets were put on the Jaffa warrior, solidifying the belief that the men considered the members of SG-1 to be a serious threat.

"All right, let's go," an SF told them, just as a small group of SGC personnel exited the commissary, the armed SFs herding them. The two groups saw each other, all of them were cuffed, and then their eyes dropped to the floor. For now there was nothing they could do, and resigned, they began to walk slowly to the elevator.

"There are too many for one trip," one SF announced, concerned that in the crowded elevator the SGC personnel could possibly get the upper hand.

The security team leader didn't need to think about it before agreeing. "Take them first," he stated, indicating half of the group from the commissary. "Then the next bunch. SG-1 will be last**,** and maybe by then these two will be up."

*~*~*~*~*

All over Stargate Command the personnel had been taken by surprise. They reluctantly gave up their shoes, belts and other items**,** and soon found themselves in detention, security and isolation cells. Those who had been in uniform were forced to take off their jackets and remove all the pins from their shirts and blouses.

Since many of the SFs were part of the invasion force, most of the 'real' SFs were caught off guard and easy to take. The person with them, the one watching their six, the one they thought they could trust with their life, had turned a weapon on them. They had two choices: surrender quietly or get zatted. The infiltrators moved methodically through the underground base, corralling the few stragglers not yet detained.

*~*~*~*~*

Vala, Sam and Daniel looked long and hard at their downed teammates, hoping to see some sign that they were starting to regain consciousness. Teal'c was moving his hands and flexing his shoulders, obviously aware that he didn't have normal range of movement, but he hadn't yet opened his eyes. Mitchell was completely still.

It wasn't long before the elevator returned with only the SFs. The second half of the commissary group had begun to walk down the corridor when a loud voice stopped them.

"Hold it." There had been a change in the plan. "You three stay here," he told the civilians who stopped walking and waited.

"Move," the SF barked at the three SG-1 members. "Or I'll zat 'em again." It had maybe been long enough that a second jolt of electricity wouldn't kill their friends, but it wasn't worth the risk. Though hesitant to leave, Sam, Vala and Daniel reluctantly walked to the elevator. They took one last look at the men on the floor before entering the crowded car.

*~*~*~*~*

The sergeant didn't know what was going on, but he knew something was... going on. He returned from dinner in the commissary to find sub level 27 deserted, and he knew for certain that two enlisted men should have still been there**,**along with several SFs, who were also unaccounted for. It also nagged at him that he hadn't seen the duty officer. He'd gone to the top of the staircase connecting 27 with sub level 28 and noticed it was eerily quiet. There were no sounds coming from the three technicians who should be on duty in the control room**,**and he couldn't see anyone when he peered over the railing. Retreating to his cubicle he called the duty officer, but the phone was answered by Captain Zinkow who told him the officer was off duty. The Sergeant knew that shouldn't be the case, but he didn't connect the dots between Walker and Zinkow. Something was off and he knew he should call either the security commander or General Landry, or maybe he should push the big round red button and alert the whole base. Something didn't feel right and he had just punched in the phone number when a painful shock caused his muscles to seize, trapping the breath in his chest before he passed out.

The SF holding the zat reached for the handset. Raising it to his ear, he heard the end of a ring and then another. Not waiting for someone to answer, he broke the connection and laid his zat on the desk.

"Damn," he muttered, quickly dialing the phone while another man applied the flex cuffs to the unconscious sergeant.

It took little time to explain what happened to the person at the other end of the line, and soon he had his orders.

*~*~*~*~*

Captain Guernsey was fuming. One of Landry's aides had been unaccounted for; missed on sub level 27 and again in the commissary when his men rounded up everyone. He had rerouted many of the phones, but since that sub level had been cleared, he hadn't transferred the lines. Now he was kicking himself. Chambers, who had zatted the sergeant, reported that the call had gone through, but that he'd disconnected before anyone answered. The man knew what to say if anyone called back, but Guernsey preferred that he or Zinkow handle it.

"Chambers, I'm forwarding the line. Zinkow and I will handle it." Guernsey hadn't disabled or transferred all the lines and was now wondering if he should have, despite the possibility of alerting someone. Thinking that all of his people should be equipped with radios, he considered transferring all of the phone lines, weighing the risks against the benefits.

"Yes, Sir," Chambers replied, acknowledging the order and interrupting Guernsey's musing. "We'll take the sergeant to holding and then head back to stores."

Guernsey replied affirmatively, and then addressed the new SGC duty officer. "Zinkow, forward your phone to me and get here ASAP. We may have a problem."

"Copy that," Zinkow replied, breaking the connection and heading quickly for the elevator.

Guernsey checked his personnel list, noting that the SFs on the President's VIP level were the only ones left. Looking at the list again, he wondered about transferring the rest of the phones so the calls would be redirected. He didn't want anymore screwups.

TBC

Grateful thanks to bats212 and zeilfanaat for their contributions. This chapter is better because of them. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing. My computer is fried and I have no idea when I'll get another one. I have been going to the library or Kinkos/FedEx just long enough to get my email. With any luck this won't go on for too much longer and then we'll get on with this.


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